


An Heir for the Goblin King

by Liliume



Category: Labyrinth (1986), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF!Bilbo, Bilbo and Company show up in CHP 8, F/M, M/M, Multi, Wizard!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliume/pseuds/Liliume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/7346.html?thread=16639410#t16639410">Based on this prompt.</a>
</p><p>When Belladonna Took wished for Goblins to take her little brother away, she never imagined the adventures with the Goblin King, Jareth, it would lead her on. Nor the consequences it would have in the future for her son, Bilbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Very Lovely Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FannishMinded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannishMinded/gifts).



Before creating his Goblin Kingdom, Jareth never gave much thought to anything beyond himself and his own world. Though he and Mizumi would often dally in the other worlds, Jareth tired of the company and of life. The multiple worlds were dull, boring, and he found them lacking. What they lacked, he didn't know.

So he set forth to create a place to call his own and found the Goblins. Their quarrels were amusing and the chaos they created was refreshing. Jareth decided that he would establish himself as their king and so built a labyrinth to protect himself from the outside world, with his grand castle at its center.

Mizumi did not like his decision and so Jareth sent her forth into the labyrinth. "Find my heart," he told her. "I have hidden it in the Labyrinth. If you shall find it, I will remain with you." But for all she looked, she did not find it, and so she left. With vengeance in her heart.

Time passed as it always did. Jareth, now Goblin King, became known in many worlds. And when someone spoke those magic words, he would appear with nary a sound and vanish the same way. But always with a child in hand.

Yet there were those who then wished to recover the child they had wished away and so Jareth challenged them to traverse his Labyrinth. And Jareth felt no guilt, no remorse, as he watched these people become broken and give up hope, and eventually, simply give up. Their suffering did not touch Jareth, their plight only a source of amusement for the Goblin King. Who laughed and jeered as he watched their progress, with the Goblins in company.

Though the words came often in the beginning, eventually they began to wane. When once the Goblins helped to take the children, nowadays it was only Jareth who ventured to the worlds for them. Though no one challenged him, either, and the disappearances of children were attributed to "kidnappings" and other nonsense. So Jareth grew weary and bored.

He did not think much of the call when it came. He simply shifted into owl form and flew off. Though it had been a while since he had been summoned to Middle-earth, as it was called by its inhabitants. _Perhaps its another dwarf being wished away_ , he thought. Though the last one had proved to be amusing for a short while, Jareth had grown tired of its endless mutterings in a language he did not understand, and so had sent it away. Last he had heard, the dwarf had become a gardener of the Labyrinth.

 _Imagine!_ He thought with glee. _A dwarf as a gardener! How amusing!_

He was still mentally cackling when he arrived on Middle-earth. With its green pastures, tall mountains, and wide forests. It was just like every other world he had seen.

Jareth landed on the branch of a tree and blinked owlishly. _This wasn't here during my last visit_ , he thought. He remembered rolling hills and sprawling fields. What he saw now were hills with doors and windows. Hills! With _doors_ and _windows_!

Slowly, Jareth became aware of a commotion nearby, and curious, he watched.

A small child - was it a child? - merrily skipped into his view. It looked like a human, though Jareth had never seen such a tiny human child that could _skip_. Why, the child was no bigger than Jareth's owl form! How peculiar. Perhaps a dwarf? Though Jareth had never seen a dwarf child with such little hair. In fact, the child had no facial hair to speak of. And it did not even wear shoes on its strangely large and hairy feet!

The air was tingling around the child. This was the child who had been wished away. Yet Jareth dallied.

The child had stopped skipping now, seemingly waiting for someone to whom it was speaking.

In that moment, Jareth felt as though time had stopped and all breath had left his body.

She was small, twice the size of the child but still only half the size of Jareth's human form. There was a soft sort of maturity to her face. Her eyes were as clear as a cloudless sky, her hair a mess of curls around her rounded face. Her scowling lips were full and red and wobbling. Her cheeks were blazing in their redness and her ample bosom shook with her heaving breaths. She had pointed ears, he noticed, though not as pointed as the elves he had seen. She was, also, soaking wet.

"You're a little toad!" She was crying. Her pretty blue eyes filling with angry tears as she attempted to wring out her dress.

"You're just angry because Bungo Baggins saw you fall into that puddle!" The child said mockingly. It then proceeded to stick its fingers into its ears, in a universal sign of childish mockery.

"I wish the Goblin King would come and take you away!" She cried angrily. Jareth was startled, no one before had invoked _him_ instead of the Goblins. The girl stumbled back with a shriek when Jareth materialized behind her tormentor.

"As you wish," said Jareth with a bow, even as he grasped the child by the back of its collar. One moment there, the next gone.

"Isengar!" The girl gasped. She gaped at Jareth in confusion. Here was a Fair Folk, an elf! Thin, tall, and fair. Yet not like any elf she had ever heard of. Unless elves went around making children disappear! Anger quickly replaced her confusion, her tiny hands curling into fists. "My brother! What have you done with him?!"

"Brother? That was a boy?" Jareth murmured but then gathered himself and smiled. "I did as you wished. Did you not wish for me to come and take him away?"

She was startled. "What? All I said was that the Goblin King would come and take him away!"

"Yes," Jareth agreed. "And I have done so."

She was confused again, staring at him with wide eyes. Then she laughed. "A jest. It is a jest!" Jareth furrowed his eyebrows. Now _he_ was confused. Her laughter died away. "It must be. You are not the Goblin King."

"Pardon me?" Jareth sputtered. "Of course I am! I am the only Goblin King-"

"No, no," she interrupted. She was observing him with a strange look in her eyes. "You must be a wizard. Only wizards can perform magic. Although they say the elves have some manner of magic, as well."

"I am not a wizard," said Jareth. Then quickly, he corrected himself, "Well, yes. Technically, I am-"

"Then you are a wizard!" She said triumphantly. Jareth sputtered some more and could only gape at her. "Right then! That was a mean trick you pulled. I would have my brother back now, safe and sound, if you please."

"You- you-"

"I was very angry at him when he tripped me," she continued, seemingly contrite. "I should not have wished ill upon him, however. While it was a mean trick, you may consider the lesson learned." She crossed her arms under her chest and tapped her bare feet against the ground when he continued to gape at her. "Well? I wish for you to return my brother, _Goblin King_."

Jareth nodded, still in a stupor. He waved his hand and then there was a child before him.

Isengar blinked blearily. "Belladonna?" He said as he reached up to rub at his eyes.

The girl hurried forward and gave him a hug. "Isengar! I am so sorry!" She pulled back to look at him closely. But he was only sleepy and continuously yawned and rubbed at his eyes. She pulled him into her arms again and hugged him gently. "Come now. We should be heading home, looks like you need a nap." She gathered him into her arms with the ease of someone used to carrying children in their arms. Jareth was taken back when she turned a wide, happy smile onto him and he was drawn by the twinkling of her eyes. "Thank you, Master Wizard." She hesitated briefly, opening her mouth to say more before visibly shaking herself. In the end, she merely smiled at him again before turning away and leaving him standing there.

Jareth stood there until until she vanished from view. Unaware of the smile playing about his lips as he watched her fade into the distance. "Belladonna."


	2. The Start of Something Wonderful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow Jareth turned out to be really sweet. Whyyyyy?  
> Well, I want to thank [PhantomLass](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomLass/pseuds/PhantomLass) for giving me the idea of using DollDivine to create Belladonna's look. Hopefully, this will do. And if she kind of looks like Sarah . . . Well, who's to say . . .
> 
> I am using these [floor-plans at Shire Post for the Great Smials](http://www.shirepost.com/ShireMapGreatSmialsTuckboro.html). [And the family trees at TG.](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Category:Hobbit_Families) In case you're wondering.

Jareth did not return to the Goblin Kingdom that day. Nor the days after. Which he spent in the company of a lovely lass named Belladonna Took.

She had been surprised when he had come calling. Though it was not her to open the small round door of her home, but her father. A smiling man they called Old Took. And when he had called for his daughter, it was not Belladonna alone who had gathered at the door, but a large entourage of boys and girls of all shapes and sizes.

And little Isengar had gasped and pointed at him, "It’s the wizard! Bella, it’s the wizard!"

Belladonna had pushed forward, then. Past the throng of brothers and sisters. "Yes, I can see that," she said with a huff and attempted to shut the door behind her. It was a brave effort, but her kin were numerous and far too curious for their own good. So she was forced to step back with another huff, until her father kindly decided to step in.

"Close the door!" he ordered. "Let your sister have a moment of privacy!" He ushered his children back inside and then turned his glare upon Jareth, who tried not to squirm under its intensity. "Now, don't you go making my Bella disappear. You hear?" Jareth sputtered while Belladonna flailed helplessly.

Old Took chuckled merrily as he closed the door and then eyed the group of busybodies staring out the window by the door. He snorted and then pushed them aside. "Make way, you rascals. Taking up all the room, you are!" They all gathered back around him once he'd settled himself. All of them looking out the window. After all, he needed to keep an eye on his daughter, didn't he? He didn't want her to disappear like Isengar had supposedly done.

"They are all staring at us," Jareth murmured, blinking at the faces staring back at him unrepentantly from the window.

"Please ignore them!" Belladonna cried, covering her reddened cheeks with her hands.

Jareth chuckled. "Very well. Because you said please."

She glared at him momentarily, but then it was like the sun shining after a rainy day as a smile spread across her face. "Perhaps we should take a walk?"

Jareth threw a look at the spying faces. "Yes, a walk sounds lovely."

"Well, then," Belladonna said, after they had walked ways from her home. "How did you know where I live? I did not introduce myself properly last we met."

"I followed you," Jareth replied, uncaringly.

"Followed me?" She turned to stare at him, her eyes widening to a startling degree.

"Of course," Jareth said, surprised. "How else would I find you again?"

That made her pause. "Hmm. I don't know. Well, then where are you staying? I cannot imagine that you would walk such a distance from Bree."

"I do not know this Bree," said Jareth. "And I slept in a tree-"

"A tree?!" She cried. She quickly looked him over from head to toe, craning her head back in such a way that had Jareth cringing. "What kind of wizard sleeps in trees?"

"One that is able to transform into an owl, of course," Jareth smiled. She was checking him over for injuries, he was sure. She was worried about him! He thought with glee.

"An owl?" She asked breathlessly, staring at him wide-eyed again. He did so enjoy putting that expression on her face. "Is such a thing possible? I've only ever met one wizard, Gandalf, and I do not think he is able to turn into an owl."

"I spent many years mastering my owl form," Jareth said.

"Will you show me?"

Jareth gave her a smile and then he was flying. He settled upon a fence post nearby and turned to regard his companion. He was still and silent as she cautiously approached him, her dainty little hand outstretched. Then her fingers were softly petting his feathers and he closed his eyes in bliss.

"A beautiful white owl," Belladonna whispered. "How strange. You do not look like a wizard, you know. But you must be one, you know magic. Gandalf told me of Skin-changers, though, who are able to transform into animals. Yet you look like one of the Fair Folk. But an elf would know about the Goblin King, I should think."

Suddenly she found herself standing between two long legs and blushed, her hand still on Jareth's chest.

There was a confused expression on his face. "You still do not believe I am the Goblin King."

She blinked. "I thought that was a joke?"

Jareth blinked back. "I don't understand why you would think so."

Belladonna huffed but didn't move away from him and she definitely did not think about the rumors that would spread should anyone come upon them out there in the open.

“Goblins are hideous creatures,” she told him. “I can’t imagine why someone such as you would want to be their king. They know nothing but slaughtering poor, innocent folk.”

Jareth nodded. “Yes, my Goblins are quite hideous. But I have never seen them kill anyone. In fact, they are quite a pathetic lot. I do not believe them capable of such a thing. Though they are a mischievous, unruly bunch.”

“I’m not quite sure we’re speaking of the same thing,” she frowned thoughtfully. She brightened considerably as something came to mind. “In fact, my great-great-uncle Bandobras Took is famous! At the Battle of Greenfields, he slayed the Goblins’ leader, Golfimbul.” She mimicked swinging a bat. “He took Golfimbul’s head clean off! They say that the goblin’s head flew through the air for 100 yards and went down a rabbit hole. They also say that’s how the game of golf was invented!” She began walking again, not bothering to wait for him since he had longer legs and could easily catch up. "But what do I know, anyway?"

"You seem quite clever to me," replied Jareth cheerfully.

She was blushing again, he noticed. He wondered if he should be worried. He'd never felt such happiness before in his life and now he was bursting with it. _It can't be normal_ , he thought.

“These _goblins_ you speak of,” Jareth began. “Where do they live?”

“They live in many places,” she replied. “In mountain caves, forests, and of course, Mordor. I suppose a great many Orcs live in Mordor.”

“What are _orcs_?”

Belladonna blinked at him. “Orcs, goblins. They’re the same. Just different names depending on whom you speak with.”

“Then they are not Goblins at all!” Jareth exclaimed.

“What do you mean?”

“In all the worlds I’ve traveled to, Goblins are simple mischievous creatures,” he explains. “They do not have other names. Nor do they go around killing innocent people. I assure you.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I’d have to see one, I imagine.”

Jareth immediately brightened. He quickly stepped in front of her and knelt down, holding her hands between his. He smiled at her mystified expression, though she did not try to pull away, which pleased him greatly. “Then you must visit my home. I would show you my kingdom and my Goblins.”

Her eyes widened in amazement as she thought of visiting his home. An adventure all of her own! “But . . .” She gazed at him sternly then and he listened attentively. “You must promise that you will bring me back when I wish. I’ll not have myself vanishing as my brother Isengar did.”

Jareth smiled widely. “I promise.”

“Good!” She smiled back happily. Then her hand flew up to cover her mouth as a thought came to her. “Oh. We should probably inform my father first. He certainly won’t protest! As long as you promise the same to him, of course. He likes to pretend that he’s fine with us going on adventures, but he’s secretly a worry-wart.”

“There’s no need for him to worry,” Jareth said. “I promise to protect you.”

Belladonna wrinkled her nose at him, taking his right hand in her left and leading him back towards her home. “That’s fine and all. But I can protect myself, as well.”

Jareth didn’t doubt it. He happily and gently grasped her small hand and allowed her to lead him on. He had some trouble slowing his larger steps, so that she would not be as rushed, but did his best. She seemed to appreciate it and that’s all that mattered. He enjoyed the scenery as they walked, the great green, rolling hills of this place were a welcome change from the mundanity and bleakness of Goblin Kingdom.

“I’d like to explore this world more,” Jareth said to himself. He observed a group of very small children, including Isengar, running around in circles some ways away. "What are they doing?"

Belladonna eyed the gathering of little hobbit children and shrugged. “I have no idea. Let’s walk faster before Isengar sees us. He was whining all night about meeting the Wizard who _rescued_ him from me.”

“What?” Jareth laughed softly.

“I have a strange brother,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s only ten years old. He still wants to be a Wizard when he grows up.”

Jareth threw a considering glance back at the now-pile of tiny children. “Ten years old? But he’s so tiny!” He considered Belladonna then. “Well, so are you.” Then took a long look about at the people who were beginning to start their day. “Everyone is so small.”

“We’re Hobbits!” Belladonna huffed.

Jareth quietly considered her words. “What’s a _hobbit_?”

After spending a few moments sputtering, Belladonna finally calmed herself enough to drag Jareth back towards her home. It was quite humorous to see the young Hobbit lass rushing down the road, with a tall fair looking man attempting to keep up as she pulled him along by the hand. When they arrived at her home, Jareth abruptly pulled back as she tried to pull him through the door.

“I don’t think I’ll fit in there,” he said when she looked back at him in confusion.

“Nonsense,” she snorted. She held the door open and beckoned him forward. “It only looks small from the outside.”

Jareth tentatively ducked into the house and was surprised to note that the ceilings were high. High enough that he could easily stand and still have a couple of inches between his head and the ceiling. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

“I’ll give you a tour later, let’s go into the library for now,” Belladonna then led the way down the entrance hall and turned right into another hallway, leading through the first doorway on the left. Jareth had to quickly duck under the rounded doorway that led into the library, almost bonking his head on the beams. “This is the public library. There should be something in here . . . If not, we’ll have to raid the private library.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” said an unfamiliar voice. Belladonna squeaked and turned around so quickly she staggered and would have fallen had Jareth not placed steadying hands on her shoulders. “Mother!”

The woman in question merely looked at her from over the top of her glasses. She was seating in an armchair beside a brightly burning lamp, she held two plastic sticks in her hands that she was moving with purpose through yarn. Jareth cocked his head. He had seen other women do the same thing often, but did not know what the purpose of it was.

“What was that about raiding the private library, dear?” the woman asked sweetly.

Belladonna laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of her neck. “With permission, of course!”

“Yes, of course. This must be the Wizard that Isengar keeps going on about,” Belladonna’s mother was impossibly tiny, Jareth thought. Smaller than Belladonna, herself. With greying hair and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. And now that he was looking more closely, he noticed the distinct lack of shoes and larger than average feet, as well. He had not thought much of these people going about barefooted, but he wondered now if perhaps there was more there than he originally thought.

“Jareth,” he introduced. The woman pushed aside her yarn and stood. She barely came up to his _waist_! She held out her hand and he gently took it with his own, bowing down until his forehead touched her knuckles. When he stood straight again, they were both giving him an odd look. Belladonna’s expression was more sheepish while her mother’s was awed.

“Well, that’s certainly charming!” The woman cackled gleefully. “Oh, Bella, dear. I hope you decide to keep him!”

Belladonna turned red. “Mother!”

“Thank you!” Jareth smiled widely, deciding he quite liked Belladonna’s mother.

“Adamanta Took,” the woman introduced herself. She returned to her armchair and picked up her yarn again. “Now why are you two skulking about in here?”

“We weren’t skulking, mother,” Belladonna pouted. “And I wanted to find a book on Hobbit origins. Jareth doesn’t know what a hobbit _is_ , can you believe that?”

“Many people do not know what we are, dear,” Adamanta said. “We hobbits like to keep to ourselves.”

“Perhaps you do,” Belladonna grumbled. “But I’m a Took!”

“Yes, dear,” Adamanta rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for in here. You’d be better off explaining what we are, yourself. No one knows about Hobbits better than a Hobbit!"

“I don’t know anything about Hobbits prior to the Wandering Days,” complained Belladonna, looking a little contrite as her mother cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

“What do you go to school for, then?” her mother grumbled.

Jareth was amused at the byplay as mother and daughter butted heads. He decided to intervene, “What are the Wandering Days?”

“Our race, Hobbits, were originally from somewhere far East, where exactly has been lost,” Adamanta explained, returning her attention to her work. “Over many generations, we continued drifting Westward until we came upon this land and settled here.”

“Hobbits are boring,” Belladonna grumbled.

“I think Hobbits are very interesting,” Jareth argued. “I had never seen a Hobbit before coming to this world-”

“You mentioned something about worlds before,” Belladonna interrupted, leaning forward in avid interest. She had taken another armchair, while Jareth lingered by a stack of books, gently picking them up and leafing through them.

“I did,” Jareth agreed. “I come from another world. It is very different compared to this one; bleaker. I’ve visited many other worlds, as well. Though none have proven as interesting as this one.”

“That’s where you’ll be taking me?” Belladonna wondered. “To your world?”

“What’s this now?” Adamanta demanded.

“With father’s permission, of course!” Belladonna quickly reassured, holding her hands up in surrender.

Her mother rolled her eyes and sighed. “No doubt your father will give his permission-”

“Permission for what?” Gerontius walked in, holding an unlit pipe, and looking about curiously. He brightened at seeing Jareth and joined them, taking another one of the small armchairs. Jareth frowned thoughtfully at them before waving his hand at the last armchair. The three hobbits gazed in awe as the small armchair suddenly grew until Jareth decided it was at a comfortable size and seated himself.

“I’ll return it to its normal size after I’m done using it,” Jareth reassured the still gaping trio.

“No, no!” Gerontius argued. “Might as well leave it like that laddie. For all the years Gandalf has been coming to visit and never once has he thought to enlarge a chair to sit in.”

“I don’t think Gandalf _can_ , dear,” Adamanta argued.

“What kind of wizard is he?” Jareth asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever met one who couldn’t cast a simple enlargement charm.”

“I don’t think the Wizards we have are very similar to the ones you’ve met,” Belladonna said.

“And where have you met these wizards? If you don’t mind my asking,” Gerontius asked curiously. He made to light his pipe until he thought to look at his wife, who was glaring at him intensely. He quickly put his pipe away in one of his pockets and leaned back into his chair.

“My own world has many wizards,” Jareth explained. Then, looking pained, “I admit that some of them are much more powerful than I am.”

“Your _own world_ , you say?” echoed Gerontius.

“He hails from another realm!” Belladonna exclaimed, practically bouncing in her chair. “Can you imagine? How simply marvelous!”

“Another realm? Amazing!”

Father and daughter spoke to each other too quickly for Jareth to understand, whilst he had cast a simple translation spell on himself, it was not powerful enough to follow the fast paced speech of two excited hobbits. He turned to look at Adamanta, but she was concentrating on her work again. So he crossed his legs, sat back, and leaned his elbow against the arm of the chair, regarding father and daughter with his chin in his hand.

Belladonna looked absolutely lovely again that day. With her dark, curly hair tied back in some intricate knot at the back of her head, her clear blue eyes shining brightly in excitement, the low-cut bodice of her flowery blue dress-

Jareth was startled when something soft hit him on the side of the head, he blinked down at the ball of yarn on his lap. His eyes quickly turning towards Adamanta, who continued working but with a crooked little smile on her face now.

He could feel the heat on his face and he shifted awkwardly in the chair. Pointedly turning his gaze away from creamy white skin and bouncing-

“Jareth, are you all right?” Belladonna asked, her voice worried, as she watched him rub at his forehead.

“Oh, I’m quite all right, just a slight headache,” Jareth assured her, smiling crookedly.

“Probably from sleeping in a tree! Even in owl form, it must be tough on the body!” Belladonna scolded, then covered her mouth as another thought hit her. “You probably haven’t even eaten yet!”

“Dear me, sleeping in a tree?” Adamanta demanded, her own brown eyes wide with shock. “Well, that just won’t do!”

“Certainly not,” Gerontius agreed. “You’re quite lucky you weren’t hunted down!”

“Hunted?” Jareth echoed wonderingly.

“Indeed, how do you think we get our meat?” Gerontius scoffed, shaking his head and pulling out his pipe again. He made to light it before remembering to look to his wife again, who glared at him, and he quickly put it away once more. “You must stay in one of the guest bedrooms, I insist.”

“I’ll have something prepared for you to eat,” said Adamanta. She stood and placed her sticks and yarn on her chair, before hurrying out of the library without further word.

“And I’ll have someone ready one of the guestrooms,” Gerontius continued, following after his wife.

Belladonna and Jareth were silent for a while before she turned to look at him with a perplexed expression on her face. “I think my parents _like_ you.”

“Is that shocking?”

“Not really, I suppose you are rather charming,” Belladonna smiled at him and Jareth felt a strange flutter in his stomach. Or was it his chest? “Before I forget . . . I want to apologize.”

Jareth blinked at her. “Apologize, for what?”

She grinned sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. “I didn’t even know your name until you introduced yourself to my mother. I’m not usually so distracted.”

“What has you so distracted, my dear?” Jareth wondered. He gazed at her in surprise when she slowly began turning red as she stared back at him. He couldn’t hold back the deep chuckle and slightly wicked smile that stole across his face. “I would apologize for distracting you so . . . But I find I rather like seeing you distracted.”

She sputtered and threw a pillow at him. He laughed, unable to contain the strange warm feeling bubbling up inside of him. He smiled at her gently as she crossed her arms and huffed and grumbled. She pouted at him when he moved to kneel before her chair, taking her dainty hand in his, but did not pull away from him.

“I find myself liking many things about you,” he revealed in a whisper.

“I’m only twenty!” She blurted, the pulled her hand away from his to cover her mouth in shock.

His eyebrows furrowed. “What does that have to do with-”

“I mean,” she continued after a deep breath. “That I am entirely too young to be thinking of such serious things. I did have a crush on Bungo Baggins, but it was only crush! I still have time before I decide to settle down- Not that I think you want to settle down with me- I mean-”

“Oh,” he drew back away from her, confused. “I suppose you wouldn’t wish to _settle down_ with someone like me, either.” He made to stand but her hand caught his and he froze.

“No! I mean- yes! I mean-” She took another deep breath, then another, until she felt she was calm enough. “What I mean is . . . I still have thirteen years before my coming of age. The only hobbits who ever marry before their coming of age are those who have arranged marriages. You never hear of hobbits marrying before their thirty-third year unless the pair are truly in love . . . And we’ve only just met.” She rubbed at her burning cheeks. “Not that you want to marry me-”

Jareth gently grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him. He gazed at her clear blue eyes, her thick eyelashes, her full lips, her button nose, the freckles scattered about her cheeks . . . “I think you’ll find I can be quite patient when the reward is great.”

She turned even redder.

“There’s much about Hobbits and this world that I do not know,” he continued, brushing his fingers against her cheek. “But I think I’d like to learn, if you would teach me.”

“Yes,” she breathed, placing her hand on top of his hand on her cheek. “If you teach me about your world, as well.”

“Quite,” he smiled, happier than he could ever remember being in his life. “I do believe this is the start of something wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, before I forget. There's some great debate (not really) over how Hobbits age. I'm going with their coming of age at 33 being somewhat like our 18-21. Belladonna is only 20 right now, she's entering her Tweens. That would put her around 13-16. But I'm going low-end of the spectrum. No mushy stuff for Jareth, yet! >_>


	3. Quite a Merry Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to update quickly so I can get to Bilbo's part already. I'm a little impatient for him to come kick butt Goblin Prince style.
> 
> There's a small introduction of an original character but his presence is quickly introduced and just as quickly forgotten, other unnamed hobbits can be easily ignored as well.
> 
> Every time I try to write "Isengar" it comes out "ISENGARD", I tried to find and replace all the places I did this. If I somehow missed one, do point it out? Any other mistakes, too, as I'm writing faster than the speed of light. Or so I'd like to think so.

Jareth and Belladonna were interrupted by the sound of running feet and a loud commotion in the hallway.

“Mister Wizard! Mister Wizard!” cried Isengar as he burst into the room. Several heads peaked around the rounded doorway into the library from behind him. “You’re here!”

“I am,” said Jareth cautiously. He threw a confused look at Belladonna, who had a long suffering look on her face.

“Did you come to see me?” the tiny hobbit asked excitedly.

“If you’ll recall,” Jareth said. “I came to see Miss Belladonna.”

Isengar wrinkled his nose. “She’s not a _miss_.”

“Stop bothering Belladonna’s guest, Isengar!” One of the peaking busybodies hissed.

“He’s not here to see _you_!” another one growled.

Isengar threw a glare at them. “Who would want to come see Bella? She’s so _boring_! All she ever worries about are her maps and books!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my maps or books!” Belladonna cried indignantly. One by one the busybodies by the doorway entered the library, throwing curious looks at Jareth but not approaching him.

“I think maps and books are boring!” another little hobbit lass exclaimed, she wasn’t very much taller than Isengar and was slowly inching her way closer to Jareth, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Hush, Mirabella!” The last of the little hobbit lasses said, she grasped Mirabella by the arm and pulled her away from Jareth, much to the girl’s displeasure. “There is nothing wrong with maps or books. Books might do you some good if you ever bothered to pick one up to read! Instead of gallivanting off with all the hobbit lads and getting mud all over your nice dresses!”

The boys were all rolling their eyes, one had moved to grab Isengar by the shoulders. Isengar looked mutinous but made no move to remove himself from the boy holding him.

“So you’re the Wizard?” another of the lads asked. Jareth realized, after thoroughly looking him and the others over, that these weren’t really children. Though they were small, taller than Belladonna, there was maturity in their eyes and faces.

“I suppose I am,” replied Jareth. “Jareth, at your service.”

And in what seemed like a practiced dance, the hobbits quickly moved to form a line, even Belladonna joined without second thought.

“Isengrim Took,” began the first hobbit, with a deep voice. He was the eldest, realized Jareth, with a wide smile and twinkling eyes and dark hair. He resembled Belladonna more than the others. From there, the others quickly introduced themselves in order.

Isumbras, Hildigrim, Isembold, Hildifons, Isembard, Hildibrand, Belladonna—who sheepishly introduced herself with a curtsy as though Jareth did not know her already—, Donnamira, Mirabella, and Isengar—who yelled his own name loudly and proudly.

If not for Jareth’s rather spectacular memory, he was certain he would never remember any of their names.

“Well met,” said Isengrim, who then thrust out his hand and allowed Jareth to shake it, which he did tentatively as everyone was watching him with bated breaths. Once he did, though, they all quickly descended on him with questions. Jareth sputtered helplessly, trying to remain still even as they swarmed around him, lest he step on them by accident.

Belladonna was shaking with mirth beside Donnamira, who was flapping her hands uselessly even as she elbowed her older sister. Both choosing to stand apart from the unruly lot of hobbits accosting the wizard.

“Almost time for second breakfast, dearies—Oh, good heavens!” cried Adamanta. Everyone froze at the sound of her voice, immediately stepping away from Jareth and turning to face her with seemingly innocent faces. “Is that anyway to treat a guest?! Off with you, all of you! Isengrim! Isumbras! I expect better of you! Hildigrim, just because you are a year away from your coming of age is no excuse to behave this way!”

There was a chorus of “yes, mother!” and “sorry, mother!” as everyone but Belladonna and Jareth stampeded out of the library.

Adamanta glanced at Belladonna, who sheepishly smiled back at her. She turned her attention to Jareth, who was still reeling from being swarmed by a group of hobbits. “We’ll be eating in the banquet hall. There is more room there, if you wish to enlarge a table and chair for yourself, Master Jareth. I’m afraid our own tables and chairs are rather small for a person of your stature.”

“Please, just Jareth,” he said. He happily took Belladonna’s offered hand as they both followed after Adamanta.

“We did not know what type of foods you might like,” continued Adamanta. “So we are preparing some of our favorite dishes and ones we know for certain that Gandalf likes. He is a Wizard of this world, but your tastes can’t be all that different, can they?”

“I’m sure whatever I eat will be delicious,” Jareth said. He was led down the hall and then right from the entrance. The banquet hall was a large room that had no doors but had three hallways leading towards it. From one of the halls came other hobbits Jareth did not recognize, carrying plates and platters filled with many foods, all of which smelled absolutely delicious and embarrassingly enough, made his stomach growl.

Belladonna gave him a worried look.

“Let’s choose a table to sit at,” she said.

Jareth followed her obligingly. Though he didn’t get to do much choosing as Belladonna immediately led him to the table closest to the hall from which the food was being brought in. She gestured at the table then, raising an eyebrow when Jareth just looked back at her in confusion.

“I’m sure the table and chair would be more comfortable for you if they were _bigger_ ,” she intoned.

Jareth readily agreed and waved his hand elegantly, smiling when Belladonna clapped excitedly as the table and the chairs surrounding it grew in size. Then there was thunderous applause as other hobbits, who had stopped to observe, began clapping. Jareth smiled charmingly at everyone.

“How come Gandalf never does that when he comes visit?” Isengar demanded and was quickly silenced by someone. “But I want to sit with Jareth!”

“Isengar, that table is much too big for you,” Adamanta said, hands on her hips as she glared down at her youngest son. “I will send you to eat in the dining hall by yourself if you do not behave!”

Jareth turned to face Belladonna worriedly. “Are the table and chair too big for you?”

Belladonna considered the two pieces of furniture before shrugging. “I don’t know.” She made to pull back one of the chairs but Jareth quickly intervened, pulling the chair out for her and helping her to sit on it. She scrunched her nose as she realized that her neck was parallel to the table top. “I think I’m going to need some pillows.”

“Nonsense, Adamanta, my love!” Gerontius was saying. “We can all sit with Jareth. How else are we to entertain him? Do you propose we shout at him from across the room?”

“Pillows!” Jareth said. “Marvelous idea, my dear.” He helped Belladonna down again and then quickly conjured up some large, hard but comfortable pillows for each chair. He helped her up into the chair again and waited as she made herself comfortable.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed. Jareth then pushed her chair back in.

“See, dear, Jareth has thoughtfully provided pillows for us!” Gerontius exclaimed. He waylaid one of the hobbits bringing food. “We’ll be eating at this big table over here.”

The hobbit nodded obligingly and moved to begin moving the food from the table on which it was originally set.

“There’s no need,” Jareth said and with a snap of his fingers, the plates and platters vanished from one table to the other.

“Ah, how useful Wizards are!” said Gerontius in amazement, even as the hobbit he’d spoken to squeaked as the plate in his hands vanished. “Though, Gandalf is never so useful, is he?”

“Your parents speak of this Gandalf quite a bit,” Jareth murmured to Belladonna. Even as he stared at all the food laid out before him, certainly too much even for the large group of hobbits? Well, the plates _were_ rather small.

“He visits us often,” replied Belladonna. “He’s very good friends with Father, of course. But it’s true, I’ve never seen Gandalf do anything that seems so simple as to make a table or chair bigger. But perhaps it’s harder than it looks?”

Jareth shook his head. “No. It’s rather simple for me. Perhaps for him it is not so?”

“Perhaps,” she murmured.

Jareth waited until everyone began settling into their chosen seats. Though Isengar threw a tantrum when he wasn’t allowed to sit next to Jareth, who sat at the head of the table. Gerontius had assigned him to sit there so that everyone could see him clearly and then sat himself to Jareth’s left while Belladonna sat to his right. When everyone was seated, including a hobbit Jareth had yet to meet, he snapped his fingers and the chairs easily slid forward.

“Neat!” Isengar proclaimed and everyone laughed and agreed.

“You’ve met my children?” Gerontius wondered.

“I believe so,” Jareth said. He tried not to gape as the hobbits sitting at the table began piling their plates with food. He was startled when Belladonna gently laid a hand on his arm. He took the plate she’d prepared for him with a smile.

“You’ve not met my husband, though,” intervened Isengrim. He gestured at the hobbit sitting beside him; a young looking hobbit with wild red hair and bright green eyes. “This is my lovely Reynard.”

“Hullo!” the hobbit replied with a wide gleaming smile.

Jareth nodded. “Honored.”

With that out of the way, the hobbits went back to their food—which they seemed invested in demolishing. Jareth didn’t know whether to be amazed or horrified. Even Belladonna and the little ones were eating as much as the rest! Where did it all _go_?

“Is the food to your liking, then?” Adamanta asked.

“The food is delicious,” said Jareth, and it truly was. It was nothing like he’d ever tasted before and certainly not anywhere in Goblin Kingdom. Perhaps he could hire some hobbits to attend to his meals, he wondered.

“You’re not eating much,” Belladonna observed. “Is that common among Wizards?”

“I would say that you’re eating quite a bit,” replied Jareth humorously. “Is that common among Hobbits?”

“It is!” Gerontius said. “We, Hobbits, have six meals each day.”

“Six?!” Jareth exclaimed in shock, dropping his fork which had been halfway to his mouth.

Belladonna counted them on her fingers. “Breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, lunch, supper, and dinner. There’s also afternoon tea in between lunch and supper, occasionally.”

“I see,” Jareth mumbled, though he really didn’t. He couldn’t imagine eating so many times each day, where did they find the time to do anything else?

As though reading his mind, Belladonna continued explaining, “We may eat six times a day and they may be considered pretty big meals by outsiders, but we eat fast.” She gestured towards her kin, some of whom were stretching and rubbing their bellies already. Meanwhile, Jareth wasn’t even halfway done with his own plate. No one made to leave the table, even after they finished eating though they continued to nibble on biscuits, instead focusing on Jareth.

“So despite your small size, you eat much?” Jareth asked as he resumed eating. He received many hearty affirmatives. “What else do Hobbits do?”

“Well, we like to throw parties,” said Isengrim.

“We like to gather to celebrate any occasion,” Reynard said.

“Especially if there’s food!” Hildigrim exclaimed. Everyone laughed and agreed.

“We also like to spy on our neighbors and gossip,” grumbled Donnamira.

“You learn interesting things that way!” argued Isengrim.

“Oh, like what?” wondered Belladonna.

“Well, last week—” began Isengrim.

“I’m heading you off before we learn something we’re better off not knowing!” said Gerontius with a shudder. “I’m still having nightmares about that business with the goat!”

Everyone laughed again. _Quite a merry gathering indeed_ , thought Jareth happily.

“Obviously, what you need to know about Hobbits,” Adamanta said. “Is that they enjoy their food, parties, and being busybodies. There’s really not much else to a Hobbit than that.”

“Lies!” cried Gerontius and he was echoed by his sons and daughters. Adamanta rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Us Tooks are not cut from the same cloth as other Hobbits! Our hearts are filled with thoughts of adventure!”

“Adventure!” his sons and daughters echoed.

“Why are there thoughts in our hearts?” whispered Isengar to his mother, who shook her head at him.

“What sort of adventures?” Jareth asked.

A great silence descended among the hobbits as they all thought of what to say.

“They only dream of adventure,” said Adamanta. “Because none of them have ever gone on one! Silly thoughts for silly hobbits!”

“It’s not silly!” Belladonna argued. “I, for one, would like to see the world outside of the Shire. There’s more out there! More to see, more to learn! Can you imagine?”

“No, I cannot,” Adamanta grumbled.

Belladonna pouted.

“I agree, dear sister,” Hildifons said. “That’s why I’ll be going on an adventure of my own once I come of age!”

“Oh, not that again,” Adamanta said. She reached up to rub at her forehead with a frown. “What a silly notion. A son of mine going off on an adventure!”

“Daughter, too!” chirped Belladonna happily.

Adamanta merely groaned. “I’ll not sit here and listen to this drivel.” She pushed her chair back with some effort and eased down. “Not respectable, at all!”

They all waited until she’d left the banquet hall before erupting into heated whispers of “adventure!”

“Apparently adventuring is not what a Hobbit does,” Jareth said wonderingly.

“Entirely unrespectable,” Belladonna agreed with a large smile on her face, which Jareth could not help but reciprocate.

Gerontius caught his daughter’s attention then. “What’s this about you going on an adventure?”

“Jareth has invited me to visit his kingdom,” she said cheerfully.

“Kingdom?” The hobbits murmured at each other, then turned to stare at Jareth.

“You have your own kingdom?” demanded Isengar.

“I do,” Jareth replied easily, if not a little proudly. “I am the King of Goblin Kingdom.”

The hobbits reeled back with wide eyes. Sputtering at each other and at him.

“No, no!” Belladonna flapped her hands at them. “Jareth says his goblins are not Orcs!”

“My Goblins are troublemakers,” Jareth nodded. “But they are neither evil nor killers. They have a strange fondness for chickens, though. So they may steal those if you have them.”

“Chickens?!” Isengar wrinkled his nose. “What kind of goblin steals chickens!?”

“They’ll probably start showing up soon, wondering where I am,” Jareth suddenly realized. “I have been gone for a while.”

“You just up and abandon your kingdom?” Donnamira asked, scandalized.

“My kingdom is protected by an enchanted labyrinth,” explained Jareth calmly. “It is impossible to enter and not become lost within it. There are many enchantments protecting my kingdom and I do not worry that something will happen... Well, that’s a lie. I do worry that I’ll return and the Goblins will have destroyed my castle by being their usual selves.”

“Oh, my,” Gerontius murmured. “And you plan to take my daughter to this world of yours?”

“Please!” Belladonna said. She opened her eyes impossibly wide and stuck out her lower lip. “Jareth is a wonderful wizard and has promised to protect me!”

“I agree that’s he’s a great wizard,” her father said. He looked very conflicted though. “I need to think this over.”

Belladonna sighed and nodded, but she smiled brightly at Jareth. The hobbits then began leaving the table until only Belladonna and Jareth remained. Jareth was still attempting to finish his plate of food while Belladonna waited for him patiently.

“I keep hearing about this _coming of age_ , you mentioned it as well,” he said after a while of thinking of something to talk about. “But what is it exactly?”

“There’s really not much to know about it,” Belladonna said, twirling her spoon with her fingers absentmindedly. “A Hobbit comes of age at thirty-three. Basically, that is when they become an adult in the eyes of the community.”

“Ah. That makes sense. But you said there are some who marry before they reach this age?”

Belladonna blushed hotly, dropping her spoon suddenly. “Well—I—Yes—”

Jareth beamed happily, which caused her to turn even redder. He decided to change the subject before he made her uncomfortable. “How do you usually spend your day, then?”

“I read, sometimes I’ll take a walk up to Hobbiton,” she replied. She stared at him with a frown on her face and he gazed back at her in confusion. “My life is so _boring_!” And _thunk!_ went her head as she let it drop to the table and Jareth winced at the sound even as he finally finished eating. “Why was I born a Hobbit?”

“I—” Jareth began.

But Belladonna pushed back her chair and jumped down, a petulant expression on her face. “Come on, might as well give you a tour now. We can find a room you’ll like enough to stay in, too. Though I imagine Father won’t take too long to come to a decision.”

Jareth stood up and waved his hand, turning the chair and table back to their original size as hobbits began appearing to take the dishes away. He followed after the quickly retreating Belladonna, his large steps easily helping him catch up. “Who were those hobbits?”

“They work here, of course,” she replied airily. “They cook and clean. Most of them are from around here in Tuckborough, though a few of them hail from Tookbank.”

He really hadn’t given much thought to her family’s obvious wealth. He supposed that her home was the equivalent of a mansion. He easily followed her as she began pointing out rooms of interest; kitchen, dining hall, laundry room down that way. She led him all around her home, past the library and entrance, and up the stairs to the second floor. He carefully climbed after her, cringing at each creak of wood beneath his feet.

The second floor was smaller than the first but the ceilings were higher. She pointed out her room at the end of the hallway to the left, beside Reynard and Isengrim’s room, followed by her other brothers’ and sisters’ rooms. To the left of the stairway was the Thain’s office and to the right was her parent’s room. While directly before them was the parlor that led to the private library, which led to Gerontius’ private wine cellar. There was even a kitchen on the second floor, complete with a pantry nearby, full and bursting with fresh food!

She then led him to some unoccupied rooms in the back but close to her own room. He picked the one closest to her and knew she realized why when her face turned a deep red. He could easily enlarge the bed and conjure up whatever necessities he’d need, he assured her. He allowed her to show him the closest bathroom, which was right in front of his room. It was small but had running water and plumbing, which was more than he’d thought he’d get.

“You’re probably tired, having slept in a tree,” Belladonna said. “Why don’t you rest and I’ll come wake you up for...?”

“There’s no need to wake me up,” Jareth said. “I don’t eat much. I’ll just sleep for a while and wake when I wake.” He _was_ exhausted, he realized. Sleeping in his owl form had not been his brightest idea.

“Then I’ll leave you to your rest,” she said. “My room is right down the hall if you need anything.” She lingered by the doorway, though, and he turned his gaze upon her questioningly, his fingers pulling at the buttons of his shirt. “Oh. Right—I’ll just—Eek!” She quickly left the room and pulled the door closed behind her. He laughed softly to himself as he removed his boots and placed them nearby on the floor. One spell later and the bed was big enough for him to comfortably lay upon, even if it took up most of the space in the room.

He fell asleep almost instantly, snuggling down into the soft, flowery smelling blankets with a contented sigh.

 _I could get used to this_ , he thought.


	4. An Infestation of Goblins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Goblins being goblins.
> 
> I meant to post this much sooner, but I forget we're holding a garage sale and was forced to spend an entire day outside in the immense heat of summer. I'm so tired right now. If it weren't that I spent the entire day in the garage, I would think I was sunburned. My allergies certainly didn't help either. Ugh.

Jareth wasn’t quite sure how long he slept, but when he woke it was not of his own accord. It was because there was a hand slapping his face!

“Your Majesty!” someone whispered.

“ _Your Majesty_!” someone else whispered. “Wake up!”

“We’ve come to _rescue_ you!”

“Rescue!”

Jareth groaned and swatted at whoever was bothering him. The best sleep he’d gotten since... ever... and it was being interrupted by his stupid little Goblins.

Immediately as the thought settled, Jareth jerked upright with a growl of, “ _Goblins!_ ”

“Your Majesty!” they cried excitedly, swarming all over the walls and bed and furniture. Jareth rubbed at his forehead and grabbed at one.

“What is the _meaning_ of this?!” He demanded as he shook it back and forth.

“We’ve come to rescue you, Your Majesty!” The goblin squeaked. It cried out when Jareth swiftly threw it over his shoulder and it crashed into a wall.

The room went silent when a knock came at the door.

“Jareth, is everything all right?” came Belladonna’s voice.

“Is that the kidnapper?!” one of the goblins cried.

“Kidnapper!” the others agreed.

“Be silent!” Jareth hissed, kicking them out of his way. “Everything’s fine!”

Belladonna was silent for a moment, seemingly considering his words. “I heard some strange sounds.”

With a great sigh, Jareth pulled the door open, giving a kick at one of the goblins who tried to sneak by him. Belladonna stared with wide eyes at the commotion that started up behind him as the goblins all tried to get a good look at her.

“What is it?” one of the goblins wondered.

“A child!” another one cried happily. The goblins immediately pushed Jareth aside without so much as a by-your-leave. “A girl child!”

“It’s a pretty girl child!”

“Is she coming to Goblin Kingdom?”

“Is she coming?”

“What a pretty child!”

Belladonna smiled nervously at the creatures who were smaller than even her and rather strange looking besides. “Um, yes, Jareth has invited me to visit his kingdom.”

“Then she’s to become one of us!”

Jareth quickly kicked them aside. “No! She is to be my _guest_. Guests do not become Goblins, understand?”

“Guest?” the goblins mumbled to each other, not appearing bothered in the least that their king was kicking them. “What’s a guest?”

Jareth ignored them and tried to smile at Belladonna, who was staring at him as though she’d never seen him before. They were both startled when a sudden racket sounded from somewhere in the smial, quickly followed by the sound of someone screaming.

“Oh, dear,” Belladonna murmured.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” grumbled Jareth. He grabbed at another goblin, who squeaked as Jareth brought him up close to his face. “How many of you came?”

“The Goblin Army, Your Majesty!” cried the goblin, it went sailing through the air to land on the other side of the bed. Belladonna only stared at him in horror as he began kicking the goblins out of the room and out into the hallway. “All of you behind me. You are not to speak or divert away from me, understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” the goblins cried.

Jareth sent an apologetic glance Belladonna’s way before quickly making his way down the hallway. Belladonna followed him after a moment’s indecision. He barked at the goblins he found on the way; one chewing on pillow cushions in the parlour, a group of five eating the food in the second-floor pantry, another one sticking his head down the toilet in the bathroom. Down the stairs they went; at the bottom of which a goblin was drawing pictures onto the floor. A couple of more goblins were in the library throwing books around and tearing pages out.

Belladonna breathed a sigh of relief when Jareth snapped his fingers and everything was put back in order. There were more goblins devouring food in the first-floor pantry and another couple of them terrorizing hobbits in the kitchen, though they were being soundly defeated by hobbits armed with nothing more than frying pans and spatulas. She could not stop her cringing when Jareth began kicking the goblins down the hallway to the banquet hall.

Her family was gathered in the banquet hall, having created themselves a barricade with the tables in between them and a group of wild goblins pelting them with food.

“Enough!” Jareth barked. His voice rippled with energy and the goblins instantly froze, dropping everything they held in their hands as they began running around in circles to avoid Jareth’s wrath as he descended upon them. They settled eventually, all of them huddling together in the center of the room as Belladonna and her family gazed at them in wonder.

“But, Your Majesty,” began one of the goblins, hesitantly but bravely stepping away from the group. “They stole you away!”

“Stole the king!” the other goblins echoed.

“Oh, so you believe your king so weak that he would get stolen?” Jareth demanded.

The goblins instantly began denying this. Though one accidentally- or not- shouted a resounding “yes!” Which had the goblins smacking it in retaliation.

“You are not to attack anyone who lives in this house,” Jareth ordered. “Understand?” The goblins murmured at each other questioningly. Jareth rolled his eyes and then visibly brightened. “You are all lucky these people were kind enough to go easy on you.”

“Easy?” one of the heavily armed goblins growled, glaring at the hobbits.

“Indeed,” continued Jareth, a wicked smile playing about his lips. “You know how they punish those who attack them?”

The goblins leaned forward towards him with wide eyes as he leaned down conspiratorially. The hobbits looked askance at each other in confusion.

“With _hugs_ ,” said Jareth. The goblins gasped and leaned away from him. “And _kisses_.” The hobbits were startled as the goblins began screaming and running around in horror.

“That’s disgusting!” one goblin screamed.

“That’s horrifying!” another burst into tears.

Jareth nodded his head, satisfied, and stood back up, adjusting his clothes and running a hand through his hair. “And that’s how I’m going to punish you if you ever attack this house again!” That just sent the goblins into more hysterics. With a snap of his fingers, Jareth righted the banquet hall.

Meanwhile, Isengar was poking at one of the goblins with a stick. The goblin continued to bawl its eyes out and ignored the constant poking.

“Jareth?” Belladonna wondered.

Jareth immediately returned to her side. He smiled sheepishly at her. “I’m sorry about this. They can be quite a handful.”

“I can see that,” she said grimly. She worked her jaw as she thought of how to say what she was thinking. “Do you... do you always treat them that way?”

Surprised, he turned to face her. “What way?”

She wrung her hands nervously. “Kicking them and throwing them around?”

“That’s how Goblins are,” he said. He smiled at her reassuringly. “They do not like good things nor do they appreciate things we would view as beautiful. They like the grotesque stench of their swamps, they greet each other with kicks and slaps, and they enjoy causing trouble and mischief.” He gestured towards the huddled goblins with a nod. “As you can see. They abhor things such as hugs and kisses. And though they are called the Goblin Army, they are quite a pathetic lot, easily beat with frying pans and spatulas. It is only because I protect them that they have not been overtaken by the other kingdoms of our world.”

“They resemble Orcs,” said Belladonna. “But they are so small, even compared to a Hobbit.”

“They have their own form of magic,” Jareth said. “Though they do not use it to its full extent. It is their task to take children who are wished away and convert them into Goblins such as themselves. Most of these children are unwanted and are given a new home in Goblin Kingdom.”

“Then Isengar would have been turned into a Goblin such as these?” Gerontius asked from nearby, where he had been listening to the hushed conversation between Jareth and Belladonna. Belladonna looked ashamed as Jareth nodded.

“Goblins love children, though,” Jareth continued. “They are considered protectors of children by many. They do not see being turned into a Goblin as a bad thing.” The goblins were now cautiously approaching the hobbits and taking closer looks at them, even as the hobbits themselves eyed them in return.

“Look like children,” one of the goblins muttered. It was poking at Isengrim, who tried not to squirm as it tickled.

“Don’t be afraid to give them a smack if you want to be _nice_ ,” Jareth told the hobbits. “But if you’d rather not have them close, try to hug them.”

“No!” wailed a goblin, who promptly fainted. Everyone ogled as the goblins began their hysterics again.

Jareth sighed regretfully. “I should take them back to Goblin Kingdom.”

“You’re leaving already?” Belladonna asked, disappointed.

“The goblins do not usually wander out after me,” Jareth smiled at her wryly. He looked over at Gerontius, who looked resigned. “You could come with me, if you wished.”

Belladonna opened and closed her mouth soundlessly before turning inquiring eyes upon her parents. Gerontius, still looking resigned, gave her a nod and Adamanta looked cross but did not object.

“I’d love to,” Belladonna finally said, turning back to face Jareth with a bright smile on her face. “I’ll need some time to pack, however.”

“You shall have it,” Jareth was nodding and smiling widely, unable to wipe it from his face. “I’ll keep an eye on my goblins.” He watched her run off, Adamanta quickly after her, and then creased his eyebrows as he observed Mirabella chasing after one of the smallest goblins, her arms outstretched and her lips puckered. The goblins scattered away from her as she happened across them, unwilling to help the goblin running from her.

Gerontius was holding another goblin by its horns, turning him this way and that. While Isengrim and Reynard held books in their hands and were quickly drawing the goblin who was posing in front of them. Donnamira was sitting at a table, doing an excellent job of pretending there was not a group of goblins gathered at her feet, muttering among themselves in between casting her curious glances. Isengar, shockingly enough, seemed to dislike the goblins and stayed attached to Hildifons’ waist. The others quickly wandered away, uninterested in the goblins.

By the time Belladonna returned, wearing a simple white and green dress and with a pack on her back, the goblins had lost interest in the hobbits and likewise. The goblins were gathered around Jareth’s feet, dancing around him and pushing at each other with laughter.

“Odd little creatures,” Gerontius kept mumbling. He swept towards his daughter and drew her into his arms. Giddily, she hugged him back, then the same with her mother and brothers and sisters, those who had remained in the banquet hall to see her off.

“I can’t believe Bella is going off on an adventure before me,” whined Hildifons.

“I’ll be sure to tell you all about it,” she said as she hugged him.

“You _will_ protect her, won’t you?” Gerontius asked Jareth gruffly. Jareth was reminded of a past conversation with Belladonna, where she told him her father was secretly a worry-wart.

“No harm shall come to her while she is in my care,” Jareth promised. He held a hand out to Belladonna, who eagerly took it, and then led her down the hall to the entrance. He pushed open the rounded door and smiled when Belladonna gasped. He led her through the doorway and into Goblin Kingdom, the door vanishing behind them without a sound. “I welcome you, to my kingdom.”

Belladonna gazed in wonder at the labyrinth that sprawled out before her. In the distance she could see a strangely pointed castle on a mountain. The sky burned with many colors and she could not tell if it was day or night.

“Let me show you the secrets of my Labyrinth,” Jareth insisted candidly.

She laughed and nodded. As they approached the wall of the labyrinth, Belladonna gazed down to the right and then to the left. The wall vanished into the distance in both directions, seemingly never ending. She was bewildered when Jareth continued to lead her forward, for there was a solid wall there before them. Surely they had to find an entrance?

“Your Majesty!” a nasally voice wailed.

Jareth frowned and turned to face the creature that hobbled quickly over to them. Belladonna was positive her eyebrows were doing a fine job of attempting to vanish into her hair.

“Ah, Hobble,” Jareth said.

“ _Hoggle_ ,” the creature mumbled petulantly. He seemed to have something rather important to say, until he caught sight of Belladonna. “A Halfling!”

“A what?” Jareth demanded.

Belladonna quickly pulled him back when he made to move forward towards the creature. “It’s another name for Hobbits, Jareth.” She curiously eyed Hoggle, who was goggling at her. “How do you know that, though?”

“Huddle, here,” Jareth explained, seemingly not hearing the creature’s mumble of “ _Hoggle_ ”, “hails from your world, Belladonna. He was a dwarf of the mountains of iron.”

“Iron Mountains, my liege,” the dwarf-creature corrected.

“He has been my gardener for close to three hundred years,” Jareth continued. Hoggle shook his head at this behind Jareth’s back, which Belladonna took to mean that Jareth was wrong about the time. “Or was it two hundred?” Hoggle continued shaking his head, a hand on his wrinkled forehead. “Well, what does it matter. He is now my gardener and also the gatekeeper of my Labyrinth.”

“Nice to meet you, Master Hoggle,” Belladonna curtsied.

Hoggle sputtered helplessly and bowed back. “Just Hoggle is fine, miss.”

“Indeed,” Jareth seemed to lose interest in Hoggle then. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Hoffle, we’ll be going into the Labyrinth.”

“Of course, my liege!” Hoggle said, feeling happier than he had he a long time. He turned to return to his gardening when he remembered the reason he’d approached the king in the first place. “Wait! Your Majesty!”

“What is it, Hoddle?” Jareth demanded impatiently.

“At the castle,” Hoggle began nervously, wringing his hands excessively as his short, stubby legs shook under the glare of the Goblin King. “The Queen of Moraine!”

“What?!” Jareth roared. He took several deep calming breaths when Belladonna patted his hand soothingly. “Come, Belladonna. It seems the tour of the Labyrinth will have to wait.”

Belladonna waved at Hoggle, who waved back cheerfully. She once again grasped Jareth’s hand and in the next blink, they were no longer outside. She gazed about wonderingly at the stone walls and incredibly high ceilings. The windows, she noticed, were just holes in the walls. There were large stone Goblin heads decorating the walls, torches and candles lit every corner of the room, and there was a large throne in the back of the room that was backed by a large, curving bone. There was a shallow pit in the middle of the room, where several small goblins were hiding and staring at the person sitting on the throne.

“Mizumi,” Jareth intoned in a dull voice, his expression full of contempt. “What are you doing in my kingdom?”

Mizumi was a tall and beautiful woman. Her skin was pale and almost blue, her hair a pale blue color, even her eyes were a pale blue. There was a strange marking beneath her lips that resembled a drop of water, and she was wearing a long, fancy robe with a high collar. On the top of her head rested a strange pointed crown.

“Jareth!” the woman cried and surged to her feet. Belladonna was astonished to see the absolutely besotted expression that spread across the woman’s face. “Oh, Jareth!” Mizumi laughed airily. “Can’t I simply stop by for a visit sometimes?”

“No,” was Jareth’s immediate reply. “I’ve told you time and time again that I hate surprise visits. Especially from you.”

Mizumi waved her hand elegantly. His words flying right over her head. “I heard you had been gone for some time and was worried!”

“I have no need for your worry,” Jareth said. Belladonna shuffled awkwardly behind him, unsure what to make of the tension radiating from him, as if he was only barely holding himself back from doing something. “I’d rather you leave now.”

But Mizumi was no longer paying him any attention because Belladonna’s shifting had caught her attention. Belladonna held her place, even as Mizumi glared at her menacingly. The woman was regarding her as someone would a bug and Belladonna did not ease her own glare.

“Oh, a child,” Mizumi said, and with that she dismissed Belladonna from her mind, much to the hobbit’s indignation. “Jareth, you really shouldn’t be going out and doing all the work. That’s why you have these pesky little creatures, isn’t it?”

“Mizumi,” Jareth finally snapped. “Leave. Now. And next time you decide to stop by for a _visit_ , I’d appreciate it if you would send an envoy first so that I may hide from your insufferable company.”

Mizumi huffed. “I can see you are in a bad mood. I will go and return another day, then.” She twirled elegantly- and Belladonna hated her all the more- and flounced away. Jareth slumped and threw himself upon his throne, rubbing at his forehead.

“ _Who was that_?” Belladonna finally snapped, slapping her hands upon her dress in agitation. “The nerve of _that woman_. Calling me a child!”

Jareth reached forward and quickly took her in his arms, drawing a squeak from her lips and another one when he settled her in his lap. “Do not worry yourself over her, my dear. Wipe her from your mind, she is not worth your time.”

Belladonna was sure she would pass out from all the heat rushing to her face, but she did not pull away from him and that greatly pleased him and returned his good mood.

“Now, my dear,” he said. “Should I give you a tour of the Labyrinth or would you rather tour the castle?”

“Well, since we are here, how about a tour of the castle?”

“That is perfectly fine with me.”

They spent much of the day wandering about the castle. From the dining room, which was a large room with a long oblong table at its center. To the ballroom; where Belladonna admired the grand staircase and multiple balconies, and where Jareth swept her up into his arms and twirled about the room while humming contentedly. Belladonna easily found herself laying her head upon his shoulder and enjoying the gentle swirls around the room. His voice was so pleasant, as well.

Afterwards, they passed by large, ornate double doors and Jareth blushingly told her they led to his bedroom. She blushed along with him and they awkwardly continued onto another room.

The next room she was led to was what Jareth called the Escher Room. It was a vast room filled with stairways. Some stairways were upside down and some were even sideways! She was frightened when Jareth led her up- or was it down?- an upside down stair and she was shocked to discover that she did not fall from them! After that, she had a grand time running over all the stairs and led Jareth on a merry chase through all the passages. Though she complained when he clearly used his magic to finally catch her, she was very happy in the end.

The two of them were unaware of the many eyes watching their antics.

“The king is acting _strange_ ,” a goblin grumbled.

“I think the king is in _love_ ,” said another more knowledgeable goblin.

“Ew,” several goblins cried.

“Is it contagious?!” yet another one demanded.

“No, no, this is a _good_ thing!” the knowledgeable goblin remarked happily. “Because he is a king and a king must have a wife. Then the wife will be the queen! We have never had a queen before!”

“And then there will be _children_!” the goblins realized, their excitement buzzed through the air. “Little prince children!”

“Yes! We have never had a prince child before either!” the goblins muttered to each other. “How exciting!”

“And she is much better than the water lady!” a goblin interjected heatedly, sticking its tongue out in disgust.

“Much better than the water lady!” the goblins agreed.

The goblins went silent as they returned their attention to their king and his lady.

“Ew! Was that a kiss!?” one of the goblins cried and immediately the group began crying out in horror and running away, lest they also be bestowed with kisses. Their presence never felt by the couple standing upside down upon one of the stairways.


	5. A Most Troubling Affair

The Goblins of Goblin Kingdom quickly grew accustomed to the Hobbit in their midst. Though their mannerisms were strange to her, Belladonna found herself becoming quite fond of them and they of her. Even if she did sometimes hug them for absolutely no reason at all!

Belladonna spent much time wandering about the Labyrinth, discovering all its secrets. Jareth would often be in her company, though he also found himself quite busy these days. His goblins had apparently gone over the deep end and the Goblin Prime Minister, Røem Bååbå, was constantly on his case about marrying and getting a wife. Jareth was not against the idea, of course, but the Goblins seemed to think he needed to have a wedding right the next day. Never mind that none of them had ever even seen a wedding taking place, or really knew what one was.

He was also confused as to why they wanted him to have a wife so badly. Goblins had very strict laws that forbid reproduction, dating back to the Great Collapse of Good Governance in the Labyrinth. Yet there were Hywr and his aide Löwr, who were tasked with making sure this law was never broken and they were demanding he get a wife, too! Going on and on about _prince children_ , whatever those were.

Truthfully, Jareth happily slipped out of his meetings in order to spend time with Belladonna whenever he could. Because topsy-turvy as they were, the Goblins continued taking up his time to demand he marry Belladonna, nevermind that they hardly ever let him see her!

 _Goblins_.

Belladonna took to spending time with Hoggle when Jareth was not available. She did at times feel a little abandoned, but she was aware of the going-ons of the castle, and thus did not feel too badly.

Hoggle told her of the Iron Mountains from which he hailed. He was still resentful of his brother who had wished him away but very much wanted to know about the rest of his family. He had even written a letter, a very long time ago, he revealed. He’d pulled out an old wrinkled piece of paper but he did not show it to her and she did not ask him to.

“I have never ventured farther than the Shire,” Belladonna told him mirthlessly. “Not even as far as Bree.”

“What I can recall of Hobbits,” Hoggle noted, “is that they like to keep to themselves.”

“That is undeniably true,” Belladonna said. “For most hobbits. Someday, I’d like to visit the Iron Mountains. Perhaps at that time, I can deliver your letter.”

“Would you?” Hoggle pleaded.

“Of course! You hang on to it for now, but I promise that someday I’ll deliver that letter for you.”

“You are ever so kind,” Hoggle murmured, placing his letter back in its hiding place. “You will be a good queen of Goblin Kingdom.”

Belladonna babbled incoherently and Hoggle wheezed in laughter as she began flailing at him.

“Well, the goblins are always telling me about the _kisses_ the king and his lady are always sharing!” Hoggle defended.

“Kisses!?” Belladonna cried, her face turning so red that the dwarf worried her head would explode. “I’ve only ever given Jareth kisses on his cheek! _Friendly kisses_!”

Hoggle nodded disbelievingly and she flailed at him again.

So passed the time in Goblin Kingdom and eventually the Goblins came to accept Belladonna’s quirks. Especially since she only began hugging them as a form of punishment. In actuality, Belladonna simply pretended she was punishing them, so they would feel better about having her hug them.

And everyday she ventured into the throne room and stole Jareth away from the Goblin Council for a few hours, during which they wrote short and simple letters for Gerontius and Adamanta. Which Sqeek, Jareth’s messenger, would then telegraph. Thankfully, Jareth was able to keep Sqeek mostly in line and there were only a few disturbances caused by the goblin’s scatalogical obsession.

Belladonna didn’t think she’d ever been so horrified and embarrassed as she had been after that first letter and the return one sent by her parents. _There_ was something that was best left forgotten.

Slowly the Goblins eased off Jareth, until the king was able to go several days without one of his subjects demanding his attention on one matter or another. For all that they were an unruly lot, the Goblins had many laws and they actually liked to maintain a dysfunctional sense of order that only made sense to them and no one else. Jareth tended to go with the flow, while Belladonna simply shrugged and went with him.

Before she knew it, an entire month had passed and she still had quite a bit to discover about Goblin Kingdom and most certainly the Labyrinth. Though she often tried to spend her time discovering the secrets of the Labyrinth, but instead found herself glued to a chair in the library with her nose in a book. Learning about the ways of the Goblins and their terribly unorganized yet workable society.

It was her sixth week at Goblin Kingdom when Jareth appeared in her room one day and presented her with a rather large box tied with a bow. Jareth looked ready to burst with excitement as he patiently watched her open the box.

Inside lay the whitest yet most beautiful gown Belladonna had ever seen. She could not contain her gasp as she drew it out of the box.

“I made it for you,” said Jareth finally.

“ _You_ made this?” she questioned in amazement, running her fingers over the soft fabric.

“Of course,” he snorted. “I wasn’t going to let the goblins do it.”

She lay the dress upon her bed to examine it better. “I don’t understand, what do I need this for?”

Jareth shuffled awkwardly. “One of the neighboring kingdoms is holding a ball in a few days time. I was rather hoping you would attend with me...” His eyes shifted upon the room, everywhere but at her. “As my date.”

Her face heated until she was sure she would pass out. “I- yes- of course-” she stammered helplessly. “I guess I should try this on, then.” She held the dress up in front of herself, looking down at it with a keen gaze. It would drag on the floor, she noted, but she was sure it was meant to. She noticed that Jareth was still standing before her and turned her gaze upon him, cocking an eyebrow at him until the king eventually gave a jerk.

“Oh, right- I’ll just-” he floundered and then quickly walked away with as much dignity as he could muster. “I’ll just wait outside, then!”

Belladonna shook her head fondly, then gazed perplexedly at her new gown. Perhaps she should pull it over her head? Or maybe from underneath?

It took a bit of effort, but eventually she managed to get it on. The only problem was... she couldn’t reach the laces on the back!

 _Oh, dear_ , she thought fretfully. Aside from that small hiccup, though, the dress fit her perfectly and wondering about how Jareth might have gotten her exact measurements brought more heat to her face. She examined herself in the three standing mirrors Jareth had happily bestowed upon her one day. Though the mirrors were twice her size, she was easily able to see her reflection, and that’s what mattered. The ruffled skirt was layered and there were white roses running down the left side. There was also a beautiful sheer fabric embroidered with flowers and silver beads that overlaid the dress. She had never seen anything like it and she took a moment to pick up the skirt and give a twirl, giggling when the dress flowed around her as though made of water.

She gave herself one more look in the mirror before heading to her door and opening it quietly. She poked her head out curiously and blinked slowly when she noticed that Jareth was pacing halfway down the hallway. She cleared her throat loudly to gain his attention and waved at him cheerfully when he spun around in surprise.

“Bells, is everything alright?” he wondered.

She ignored the warm feeling in her chest when he called her by that nickname, it had taken Jareth a month to feel enough at ease to stop calling her “Belladonna” or “Belladonna Took”. What a mouthful. “I require some assistance.”

“Is there something wrong with the dress?” he looked very worried and trying to hide his disappointment.

“No, it’s perfect,” she assured him. “It’s just, err- I need some help with the laces on the back.”

They were both silent, Belladonna staring off somewhere down the hall with Jareth staring directly at her.

“Or- or- I can do it myself!” Belladonna cried out in embarrassment suddenly.

“No, no!” Jareth said with a soft laugh. “Perhaps next time I should remember to place the laces on the side?”

“If you like,” she said demurely. “It’s fine if you place them on the back.”

“Oh?” he inquired teasingly.

Belladonna blinked at him. “Of course, you’ll help me tie them, right?”

He stopped to stare at her again.

“I mean- I mean if you want to!” she cried helplessly, floundering rather spectacularly. “Not that I think you want to! Maybe you do... but it’s quite fine if you don’t... I mean...” She huffed when he began laughing uproariously. “Oh, you! Just help me with these things, will you?”

He chuckled deeply and followed her inside her chamber. “Of course, my dear. I would be glad to help you with any laces that require tying.”

She slapped half-heartedly at his arm and moved to stand before her mirrors again. Observing his reflection as he knelt down at her back and made such quick work of tying up her laces that her eyebrows raised to her hairline. He caught her gaze and smiled ruefully.

“I make my own clothes, you know,” he murmured. “Can’t expect the goblins to do it. Who knows what horrific thing they’d have me wear.”

She smiled at him fondly, though he was not looking at her then, concentrating all his attention on tying up the laces of her dress. When he was done he stood up and stepped back as she stepped forward to look at herself in the mirror again. She caught his gaze through the reflection.

“How do I look?”

“I think you look beautiful,” Jareth replied. The expression on his face was one she had grown accustomed to seeing directed at her and it still made her blush. “I’d imagine you would look beautiful in just about anything.”

“I imagine you would look handsome in just about anything, as well,” she retorted, twisting her hips and watching the skirt swirl about her. She had never worn such a dress before and it was so beautiful, she couldn’t keep her eyes off it. She was unaware that Jareth could not keep his own eyes from her, watching her hips twist back and forth. She took a walk about the room, looking back at her dress dragging across the floor. It was longer in the back, she found that strange. “Will you tell me about the ball? Where it’s going to be?”

“Of course,” he said, immediately moving his eyes away from her.

“I’ll need to hang up the dress in the wardrobe, if that’s all right with you?”

Jareth bowed at the waist. “As you wish, my lady. I’ll wait outside, we can walk to the library. I have a map there, I think...” He walked out mumbling to himself.

Once she had carefully gotten the dress off and placed in her new Hobbit-sized wardrobe, she merrily left her rooms and skipped down the halls toward the library. She scared many of the goblins on the way but for once she did not pay much care. She would be attending a ball in a few days time, with Jareth! She was already so excited by the prospect.

When she met Jareth at the library, he told of her of the Kingdom of Poaceae. Poaceae was located to the east of Goblin Kingdom, where the land was green and it was almost always Spring until now. Because a strange storm had passed over Poaceae and brought mountains of snow upon the cities. The kingdom was ruled by a mighty warrior named Rowan who could skin-change into a dragon. Not a dragon like the ones she had read about in books as a child. He was a kind, gentle, and wise old dragon. With whiskers on his face, a long thin body, horns on top of his head, and four clawed fingers on each hand and foot. The ball to which Jareth had been invited was to take place in Poaceae.

Jareth spent the next two days being quite busy. Apparently the goblins were dismayed that Jareth and Belladonna were traveling to Poaceae. Complaining that they were being left to do all the work and nobody, not even the Prime Minister, wanted the job of being officially “in charge”.

Finally, the day of the ball came and Belladonna took a long luxurious bath and then got herself ready. Jareth entered her chambers when she was in her dress and helped her tie up the laces again. Then he gently drew her into his lap, sat before the three standing mirrors in her room, and brushed her hair back and away from her face. How he managed to tame her long curly hair, she’d never know, but tame it he did and when he was done brushing, her once curly hair remained back and straight.

Once he was done with her hair, he moved on to her face. She was a little unsure of what he planned to do to her face. He rubbed feathery brushes and his own long fingers gently over her skin, eyelids, and lips. Then when he declared that he was finished with a triumphant and pleased air, she turned to examine herself in the mirror and almost did not recognize herself. It was like she was no longer a Hobbit, all that remained were her own clear blue eyes and short, pointed ears. There was strange paint on her face that somehow emphasized her cheekbones and the light coloring on her eyelids brought out the color of her eyes.

But Jareth was not yet finished. He clasped a simple choker around her neck and then placed a circlet interwoven with flowers around her head. Then he stepped back and admired his work. He cocked his head to the side and was silent.

She began to fidget nervously. “Do I look strange?”

He blinked once. “I’m just pondering what would happen if we were to just stay here instead. I really don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Wait, are we expected?”

His gaze shifted guiltily away. “Perhaps.” He cleared his throat and straightened his own clothes, which were not all that different from what he usually wore, she noted ruefully. “Should we get going, then?”

“How are we getting there?” she wondered.

“Come,” he led her out of her chambers, down hallways, until they were down at the front of the castle. There were six large, shadowy black horses tied to an elegant carriage. The horses were, to her surprise, bickering amongst themselves and making quite the ruckus. “Phooka. They are goblins with the ability to shape-shift.” The Phooka noticed Jareth and Belladonna and immediately straightened and thrust their chests out as though on display. Belladonna was amazed to see that they appeared to be made of the very shadows themselves, with bright glowing eyes.

Jareth reached inside the carriage and pulled out a white fur-lined cloak that he wrapped around Belladonna’s shoulders.

“It is very cold in Poaceae right now,” he explained at seeing her confusion. “My magic will protect us from the worst of it but it is good to be prepared.”

Belladonna gently ran her hands over the fur and then rubbed her face contently against it. It was so soft, she realized. She allowed Jareth to help her into the carriage and then snuggled up against his side when he sat down beside her. Soon the carriage was moving and she gave a great squeak of fear as there was a sudden lurch and then they were flying in the air! She burrowed against Jareth’s side more insistently as her stomach gave a few flip flops.

Jareth soothed her with his gentle voice and his hand rubbed firmly down her back. And he sang;

 

_There's such a sad love_

_Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel_

_Open and closed within your eyes_

_I'll place the sky within your eyes_

 

Belladonna found herself drifting off with his arms around her and after she didn’t know how much time had passed, she felt him shaking her slightly.

“Are we there?” she mumbled sleepily. “How long have I been asleep?”

“We have arrived,” Jareth replied. “And you were only dozing for an hour. I should have insisted you not venture into the Labyrinth today.” He wheezed as her elbow suddenly dug sharply into his side.

“Don’t worry, I won’t fall asleep again,” she snarked.

“I merely worry you won’t enjoy yourself,” he argued.

She frowned at him. “You just wish to go back to Goblin Kingdom. But I did not allow you to pretty me up so that we’d return once we only just arrived.” She was surprised when he pulled his arms away from her and crossed them over his chest with a frown on his face. With a sigh, she pulled away from him and slid to the other side of their seat to cautiously look outside the window.

The carriage was being pulled swiftly down a snowy road and if she listened carefully, she could hear the Phooka complaining and teasing each other. She settled back and squealed in fright when she realized Jareth had moved over to peek over her shoulder.

“Jareth!” she yelled.

“What?” he pulled quickly back with his eyes wide and startled.

“Make some noise when you move!” She punched his shoulder abruptly.

Jareth grasped his shoulder with a wounded and accusing expression on his face, as though he couldn’t believe she had done that. “You want _me_ to make some noise when I move? When you’re a tiny _ninja hobbit_! Always appearing suddenly and out of nowhere!”

Belladonna sputtered. “I don’t even know what a _ninja_ is and I _do not_!”

They huffed and puffed at each other, then promptly broke into peals of laughter and giggles. They grew silent when one of the Phooka yelled back, “Shut up back there!” Then began laughing all the more, even as the Phooka grumbled and complained loudly. When the carriage finally ceased moving, the two of them were still laughing softly.

The carriage door was opened by a footman, who stared at them with raised eyebrows before quickly smoothing his expression as Jareth glared at him. Jareth readjusted his clothing and stepped outside, then reached to help Belladonna down as well.

She gave a small sigh of relief when she stepped down on a soft red carpet and was finally able to stretch, her gown was not made for sitting for long periods of time. She allowed Jareth to hold her hand as he led her up the carpet covered stairs, reaching up to pull her cloak closed as a sudden cold chill blew over them.

Belladonna didn’t have time to look up at the palace once they finally entered it, but didn’t stop herself from gazing up as Jareth stopped them before a grand staircase leading down. There were two staircases leading up on either side of the grand staircase, to a large, ornate door that remained tightly closed with what looked like a giant white bear wearing armor standing before it. The bear blinked at her and much to her shock, brought up one of its large paws to wave at her merrily. She waved back dumbfoundedly.

There were many portraits hung about the room of men and women, wearing armor and dresses and long robes. On the ceiling there was a large round window through which she could see the night sky and one of the three moons-- and hadn’t that been a shock when she’d discovered it-- and the walls were white and blue and baroque.

Jareth gently removed the cloak from her shoulders and handed it to another bear who appeared before them.

She hardly had time to examine the bear when Jareth was suddenly pulling her down the grand staircase, through the finely crafted doorway. At the bottom of the stairs stood a strange-looking creature wearing a rather formal outfit. Belladonna tried not to stare at the creature’s hooved feet that resembled that of a goat’s, nor the horns on its head, not even the creature’s very impressive curly hair and goatee.

“Representing Goblin Kingdom, King Jareth and his companion, Lady Belladonna,” the creature intoned in a rather deep voice that startled Belladonna.

Jareth led Belladonna into a grand ballroom and the first thing to draw her attention was, strangely enough, the ceiling reflected on the floor. The ceiling was high-- very, very high-- and she would have had to crane her neck quite painfully to view it, so settled for admiring it from the mirrored floor. There was a scene depicted on the ceiling, of bears and a single man in armor standing before the form of a giant blue skinned, white bearded, man wearing an icy crown. The painted scene came to life and the armored man pointed his sword forward and the bears charged.

Her attention diverted from the floor as Jareth came to a stop before three very beautiful ladies; the youngest wearing a white gown and flowers in her hair, the middle one wearing a red gown with a silver crown on her head, and the last one wearing a black gown with diamonds in her hair.

“Jareth, dear!” the eldest one said happily, drawing Jareth into her arms and hugging him tightly. Jareth groaned as the breath left his body but allowed the elderly lady to have her hug. “We have not seen you in almost two months. What have you been up to?”

“Mother,” the lady in the middle said, rolling her eyes. “Jareth seems to be in good company. Do introduce us, Jareth.”

Jareth happily did as told. He gently pulled Belladonna forward by her hand and stepped behind her. “This is Belladonna Took. Bells, these are the Three Witches of Cypress. Rhianu,” the youngest smiled widely, bouncing on her feet as she tried to contain her excitement. She was very pretty with long white hair and clear eyes. “Rhianu’s mother, Igraine,” the woman winked at her and Belladonna felt her face heating, “and Igraine’s mother, Gaenor.” Igraine and her mother did not look that much older than each other and both had white hair, as well. Though Igraine’s was pulled up into a bun and Gaenor’s was shorter and fell around her shoulders.

The elder lady hummed in thought, rubbing her chin as she regarded Belladonna in a deliberately worrying manner. Then she nodded firmly and graced Belladonna with an approving smile. “You found a good one, Jareth. Make sure to keep this one!”

“A good what?” Jareth asked, baffled.

“A good wife!” Gaenor chortled as both Jareth and Belladonna turned red.

Igraine swatted at her mother with a scolding face. “Mother!” But her eyes were shining as she looked at Jareth and Belladonna. Rhianu was nodding eagerly, her eyes opened impossibly wide and a big smile on her youthful face. Jareth was looking at Rhianu with a strange expression on his face, as though he were trying to figure something out.

Before he could ask, the deep voice of the strange creature who had introduced them cut through the air again. “Representing the Land of Moraine, Queen Mizumi.”

Jareth scowled and did not turn nor look over his shoulder, and Belladonna fought valiantly with herself to do the same. The Three Witches were unquestionably displeased as well, if their varying expressions were anything to go by. Gaenor was scowling fiercely in Mizumi’s direction with a single eyebrow raised, as though daring her to come their way, and though Belladonna could not see the other woman, she supposed Mizumi did not wish to incur the elder witches’ wrath, if _her_ continued absence was anything to go by.

Igraine was looking towards Mizumi with distaste, her nose wrinkled as though she’d smelled something particularly foul. While Rhianu was, apparently acting her age, sticking her tongue out in the general direction Belladonna thought Mizumi was.

Apparently pleased that Mizumi would not be bothering them, the witches returned their attention to Jareth and Belladonna.

“Well then, Miss Belladonna,” said Igraine. “Tell us from where you hail?”

“And how old you are,” added Gaenor. “You are so small, it is hard to tell. And how did you meet this troublemaker?”

Jareth sighed. “Must you ask so many questions?”

“Yes!” said Gaenor firmly. She looked between them suspiciously. “She wasn’t wished away, was she?”

“No!” Jareth reeled back.

“No,” Belladonna began meekly. “I was the one who wished someone away.”

“Oh!” Gaenor exclaimed. “Did you traverse the Labyrinth then? Or wait-- Did you lose, dear?”

“What?” Belladonna was befuddled. “Umm, no. I asked Jareth to give me my brother back and he did.” Jareth was determinedly not looking at any of them. A suspicion began to grow in her mind. “Is he... not supposed to do that?”

The Witches exchanged glances before turning to simultaneously to raise their eyebrows at Jareth. Luckily for him, trumpets began playing and the room quieted instantly and everyone turned to face the door. Belladonna was pulled to stand before Jareth, so that she would not be trapped behind his larger form.

There was a tall, elven-looking man entering through the doorway. His long-- it went down past his waist-- brown hair swayed behind him as he walked forward slowly. There was a pleasant smile on his face and he was very beautiful. Belladonna was admittedly dazzled and looked at Jareth sideways. Jareth grinned lopsidedly at her in amusement and nodded deliberately in the man’s direction.

On second look, Belladonna realized that the man’s smile was pleasant but also very nervous and that the reason he was walking so slowly, was because he was having trouble moving with the elegant and elaborate blue robes he was wearing.

There was a similarly dressed man walking behind him with one hand drawn out of the long sleeves of his black robes. Though this man did not smile, eyes cold and mouth set in a thin line.

“Representing the Kingdom of Drumlin, Emperor Stribog,” the hooved announcer spoke as the black robed man stepped forward first. “All stand for His Majesty, Emperor Rowan-”

The elven man stumbled then and went down like a sack of potatoes, there instantly arose a loud commotion as the guests tried to surge forward to his rescue. Emperor Stribog had swiftly whirled about to catch his companion but missed him by a hair and with a long suffering look, he reached down to drag Emperor Rowan from the ground.

“Oh, Rowan, when will he learn how to walk on his own two feet when he doesn’t have a sword in his hands,” tsked Gaenor.

“It has been over a thousand years,” Igraine said. “If he was ever going to, he’d have done so by now, Mother.”

Belladonna had attempted to listen to Emperor Rowan’s following speech, but it was in a strange language she didn’t understand, though everyone else did. Once his speech was done, many people gathered around him, to greet him and also check to see if he was hurt by his fall. The other emperor remained steadily by his side throughout all of this, though he had a constant frown on his face and he seemed bored.

“Come, my dear,” Jareth said as he took her hand again. “I will introduce you to Rowan.”

She noticed that he did not mention introducing her to the other emperor.

“Jareth!” Emperor Rowan greeted jovially. He began to speak in that strange language again, until Jareth interrupted him with a few words and gestured at Belladonna. Rowan observed her curiously while Stribog did not even pretend to be curious.

“Rowan, this is Belladonna Took, she hails from Middle-earth,” Jareth said.

“Middle-earth?” Rowan was awed. “The last time I visited that world it had only just been created and it was flat.”

“It was,” Stribog agreed. “My father sailed right off the edge of it.”

“Your father was an idiot,” said Rowan pleasantly. “How is that one man... what was his name... Ilumaker... Illuminate... Illusion..”

“Ilúvatar?” Belladonna provided helpfully.

“That must be it,” Rowan decided. “Old man? White hair and a long white beard? Strangest fellow I ever met.”

Belladonna was speechless but managed a shaky nod.

“I never understood why he looked like an old man when he was younger than me,” Rowan said perplexedly. He wiggled his nose and bowed down at the waist to look at Belladonna closely, after a few minutes of observation he announced-- and quite loudly too: “You are very cute!”

Several of the guests nearby turned to stare at the emperor in shock.

“So small and cuddly!” Rowan further announced.

“Oh, good lord, someone put a sword in his hand!” someone from the crowd shouted quite vehemently.

“I think he must have bumped his head too hard!” someone else shouted in worry.

Stribog was beginning to look a little worried, as well, and even Jareth was peering at Rowan with narrowed eyes and crinkled eyebrows. Stribog made to steer Rowan away when the Poaceae Emperor suddenly swayed dangerously and almost fell over again.

“I don’t feel very well!” Rowan declared seriously.

Jareth managed to hold him upright before he toppled over again. “Well, this is familiar.”

“You’re thinking about that one time your goblins dropped a statue on my head!” Rowan accused.

“If you can remember that,” Stribog huffed. “Then you’re not as bad off as I thought.”

“That’s a good thing,” Jareth said tartly, narrowing his eyes at the dark haired emperor, who shrugged gracefully. “Come on then, old man.” He hefted Rowan’s arm around his shoulders and turned to face Belladonna apologetically. “I’ll be taking Rowan to his room, will you wait for me here?”

“Of course,” she said agreeably. “You owe me a dance.”

Jareth stumbled over his words. “What- since when-”

“My head hurts,” Rowan groaned, reaching up to touch his head and almost managing to poke himself in the eye.

Jareth grimaced and dragged him away, leaving Belladonna standing awkwardly with Emperor Stribog, who made no move to ease her discomfort. Instead he chose to stand there as though he were a statue, unmoving and unblinking and she was sure that if she reached out to touch him, he would be ice cold.

She watched the couples dance across the floor and gently hummed to herself. She left Stribog standing there and attempted to seat herself on a chair placed off to the side. After a bit of effort, she realized she would not manage to get herself onto the chair with her dress on and grumbled. Quite a bit of time passed and she grew worried when Jareth did not return. Stribog eventually vanished through the same doorway as Jareth and Rowan.

She worried her bottom lip and finally decided to go look for Jareth. Thinking that perhaps Rowan’s head injury had been worse than it had seemed and it has seemed very bad to begin with. She walked through the door and entered a long hallway filled with many doors. Apprehensively, she made her way down the hallway, looking into open doorways and hesitating before closed ones. Eventually she came to the end of the hallway, which veered off to the left and right.

With a scoff she settled herself against the wall and contemplated heading back to the ballroom. Movement out of the corner of her eye had her turning her head to the side. She brightened at seeing Jareth down to her right.

“Jareth!” she called out. It appeared that the man did not hear her call him, when he did not acknowledge her and vanished around another corner. Irritated, she surged to her feet and moved quickly after him. But the hallway ended in an open balcony, the doorway surrounding by fine lace curtains that swayed gently in the cold breeze. She shivered and walked out into the balcony, looking about in confusion. _He couldn’t have come out here_ , she thought. _If he did, where is he now_? But he was an owl sometimes, perhaps he had taken on that form and flown off?

Her teeth were chattering and with one last look around and at the sky, she turned to head back inside. She was unaware of the shape taking form behind her and cried out when something cold and wet wrapped around her neck from behind and then pulled her back and off the balcony. She screamed as she fell through the sky and then with a splash, she was in the cold, freezing water.

Panicked, she tried to kick her legs but didn’t know if she was facing up or down. She broke the surface with a gasp and tried to take in air but something grasped her leg and pulled her back down. She struggled futilely against whatever had grabbed hold of her, quickly growing tired and unable to hold her breath for much longer. Her chest burned with the need for air and her arms flailed uselessly through the water, trying to grasp at something that wasn’t there.

Her vision blurred as she was pulled down further and further and she saw the form of a giant snake approaching her from in front before she fell unconscious.

Only to come awake suddenly with a gasp and a cough as water clogged up her throat and she turned her head to spit it out.

There was a familiar warm hand rubbing her back gently and Jareth’s voice whispered soothingly to her. “That’s it. You’re okay. You’re okay.” He took her up into his arms and held her close, burying his face in her hair and planting wet kisses along her eyelids.

“We should get her inside, Jareth,” Rowan appeared in her field of vision, holding her cloak in his arms. “It’s too cold out here.”

“No!” Jareth said immediately, reaching out for the cloak and practically tearing it out of Rowan’s grasp, who floundered momentarily before stepping back with his shoulders slumped. “We’ll be returning home now.” He wrapped her up in her cloak from her head to her frozen toes and stood up, holding her tightly against his chest. She did not complain and instead snuggled against his chest as he stormed away from the castle. She could hear that the ball still continued on without them, the music played through the air merrily.

“I guess- I guess we’ll have to save that- that dance for some other time,” she chattered at Jareth, who kissed her forehead and laughed softly.

She only realized that Rowan and Stribog were following them when the two began to argue very loudly.

“An innocent person almost drowned in my kingdom, Stribog! _Drowned_!” Rowan was hissing. “Before your thrice-cursed snow came, the only way for a person to _drown_ was by using their own bathtubs! Their _bathtubs_! My rivers were small and three inches deep-”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Stribog asked in a dull voice.

Which only served to further anger Rowan. “What do I...?” he began unbelievingly, then roared so suddenly and loudly that Jareth stumbled and stopped in shock. “I _want_ my _kingdom_ back! I want my grass and fields, my trees, and my small rivers! I want my people to come back!” She heard Rowan snuffle and knew the emperor was crying. “I’ve been trying to find a way to send the snow away, but you _never_ help. I can’t control it. I can’t get rid of it. What am I supposed to do? Leave, too? _This is my home_.”

Stribog did not say anything and Jareth resumed walking faster than before, not daring to look back.

“Don’t _touch_ me!” Rowan snapped peevishly.

“Gaenor has offered to let you stay with them, Rowan,” Jareth said, out of the blue. “Many times. Perhaps you should take her offer and rest awhile in peace, then send word to the Emperor of the South for help.”

Rowan sniffed. “He’s a fire elemental. He’d burn my kingdom down to the ground.”

“There’s really not much left of your kingdom to burn, Rowan.”

The emperor was silent, conceding that what Jareth said was true. As they reached the front of the castle, Belladonna noticed that there were a group of bears gathered around the carriage she and Jareth had arrived in, appearing to be guarding it. The Phooka were concerned when they saw her, loudly demanding to know what had happened to her and if they needed to punish someone.

“Just take us home,” Jareth ordered. He placed Belladonna on the seat inside the warm carriage, he hesitated before getting in, turning his head to look at Rowan. “Thank you.”

Rowan was baffled. “For what?”

“For saving her,” Jareth replied. He climbed into the carriage and closed the door behind him, gathering Belladonna into his arms again.

“Was I under for very long?” she wondered.

“No, Rowan saw you come up for air and get pulled down again,” Jareth answered. “He used his dragon form to withstand the coldness of the water and drew you out. You’d only been unconscious for a couple of minutes and there wasn’t much water in your lungs.”

“I should have thanked him, then,” she said softly, her throat still feeling sore. “Wasn’t he hurt himself?”

“It was a minor bump,” he said. “He was loopy for a bit and decided to sit out in his balcony, he said the cold might help his head. I thought he was being silly, but maybe he felt something was wrong. He has an uncanny ability of knowing when good and bad things are going to happen. It was very shocking to see him transform suddenly and dive into the water.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I’ll thank him next time I see him, then.”

“I believe that will be sooner than you think,” Jareth said enigmatically. “I think we’ll be seeing a lot of Rowan from now on.”


	6. Return to the Shire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mushy stuff.

Jareth’s prediction that they would be seeing Rowan again soon turned out to be correct. He arrived one day while she was visiting with the goblins in Goblin City, helping them fix their shacks as some of them were close to falling down.

A great shadow descended upon the city and the goblins began running around screaming hysterically, even a few of the guards joined in the commotion. She was only slightly surprised to see the great blue dragon that landed in the town square, sniffing suspiciously at some of the goblin guards that tried to poke at him. The goblins calmed once they recognized Rowan and went back to their own business. The dragon shifted in shape until Rowan was standing there, looking about at the shamble.

“Your Majesty!” Belladonna called.

“Ah! There you are,” he said, he eyed her up and down with a smile. “I guess I should have noticed you straight away. You’re the most colorful thing in this whole kingdom.”

Belladonna tugged awkwardly at her clothes. She had grown accustomed to wearing a set of overalls over a blouse. They were comfortable and did not drag on the ground when she walked. Jareth had kindly provided her with a dozen pairs of differently patterned overalls, though she had tried to protest that she would only get them dirty and so didn’t need them to be so pretty.

“You were looking for me?”

He shuffled and smiled sheepishly. “I was planning to stop by earlier, to see how you were doing. But I got distracted.”

“I’m doing fine,” she said with a small grateful smile. “Did you come all the way from your kingdom?”

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “I moved to Cypress. Jareth was right, I lost my kingdom a long time ago. I was prolonging the inevitable.”

“I’m sorry,” she truly was, she had heard how much he loved his kingdom. “What about your friend ... the emperor of Drumlin?”

Rowan looked sad for a moment before a scowl firmly attached itself to his face. “He hasn’t visited since I moved, nor has he written me any letters or sent me any messages. He’s probably setting himself up in my castle, I told him he could have it, you know. What would I do with a castle in a kingdom that no longer belongs to me? Good riddance.”

Belladonna smiled at him grimly but said nothing.

“Enough about sad things!” Rowan proclaimed. “Have you been to Cypress yet?”

“No, I haven’t. Jareth said we might visit the Witches sometime but he’s been quite busy.”

“Do you suppose he’d kill me if I took you there?”

“Err ...”

“Ever ridden on a dragon before?” Rowan asked even as he shifted back into his dragon form, almost squashing a goblin unfortunate enough to be walking behind him. The dragon offered his back to Belladonna, as though expecting her to climb what might as well have been a mountain for how far above her it was.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she began fretfully, flapping her hands uselessly. “Hobbits don’t much like heights, you see. I’ve never flown on anything in my life!”

“Nonsense,” the dragon rumbled. “It’s not so bad and I promise to fly slowly. Just keep your eyes on the sky above and not on the ground below. I will not allow anything to happen to you.”

She hesitated. But she really wanted to go with him. She’d never ridden on a dragon before! She also did not think she’d ever get an offer like this again. Finally she decided and after a bit of effort-- and Rowan using his snout to push her up-- she was sitting on his back and feeling absolutely _tiny_ compared to his bulk.

“Move up to my neck and hang on to my hair or horns,” Rowan said.

She quickly did as told, both hands grasping at the hair on his head. She grit her teeth as he pushed off the ground and slowly he ascended.

“The dragon is stealing the Lady!” she heard one of the goblins shout and rolled her eyes.

“ _Goblins_ ,” rumbled Rowan.

Her stomach flopped unpleasantly as he surged forward. The feeling passed quickly, however, and she forced open her eyes which she had unawarely clenched shut. She forced herself not to look down and looked up at the clouds, which they seemed to be fast approaching. She gave a startled squeak as Rowan broke through the clouds and he laughed.

“This is much better,” he said. “Now you can’t see the ground!”

Belladonna gazed in awe at the clouds below. “How can you see where we’re going?”

“I don’t need to see my way,” he replied jovially. “I just think about where I’m going and I guide myself there.”

She crossed her legs and sat upon his head, enjoying the wind blowing through her hair. They passed the time talking about many things; Middle-earth, Hobbits, dragons, goblins, and also quite a bit about Jareth. Rowan was very interested in knowing of her relationship to the Goblin King and told her a number of funny stories about him. She laughed so hard at one of his stories that if not for the horns on either side of his head, she would have rolled right off.

After an unknown amount of time had passed, he declared that they had arrived and warned her that the descending would be much worse than the ascending. She held on tightly to his hair and clenched her eyes shut as they lowered away from the clouds. Unable to help herself, she peaked one eye open and immediately wished she hadn’t, because the ground was fast approaching them.

She was very relieved when they finally landed and opened her eyes to gaze about in wonder. Rowan had landed in a large open area surrounded by tall trees that seemed to be a common landing place, for there was a small group of winged white horses that were landing not far from them.

“Pegasus,” said Rowan. Belladonna slid down his snout and landed on her feet. The curious horses approached them and one of them snuffled at Belladonna before allowing her to pet them. “They like you.” The Pegasus neighed and snorted, then trotted off into the forest. Rowan knelt down next to her and pointed to the right of where the horses had vanished, indicating a hill that could be seen through a gap in the trees. “Over there is the Green Hill, where the fairies live. We’ll not be visiting them, though, and if you ever meet one do not tell them you come from Goblin Kingdom. Goblins and fairies do _not_ get along.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually,” Belladonna said. “There are always a few fairies who like to stay in the Labyrinth and the goblins don’t like them there.”

“There must be something there that they like, they don’t usually wander so far from their home,” Rowan mumbled. He turned to the left and pointed at a tower that could be seen in the distance. “That is the Witches’ Castle. Where we will be going and where I’m staying for now.” He dusted off his pants as he stood and led her down a path from the circle of trees, which looked to lead straight to the Witches’ Castle. He walked slowly not only for her sake, but because there were many tiny and strange creatures that regularly cut across the path. A few of them stopped to look at Belladonna and touched her pants and-- the ones who could reach or fly-- hair.

A group of white birds-- _doves_ , said Rowan-- settled on branches they passed and gazed at her in interest. Finally, some of the smaller ones began chirping at her questioningly. Rowan raised an eyebrow at them and turned to look at Belladonna in confusion. “You have a child?”

“What- no, I don’t,” she said and blushed heavily.

The doves chirped excitedly at Rowan, whose eyes began to get wider and wider until they seemed to bulge out of his face. Belladonna wrung her hands in worry as she stared at him, almost expecting his eyes to fall right out.

The doves scattered when a shadow descended upon them from the sky. Belladonna brightened immediately at seeing the white owl. “Jareth!”

The owl hooted at her and turned his beady eyes upon Rowan, who was still standing there with his mouth hanging open. Jareth turned his head sideways in confusion and then swiftly changed forms.

“What’s the matter with Rowan?” Jareth wondered.

“I do not know,” said Belladonna with a shrug. “The doves were talking to me and something they said seems to have shocked him. How did you get here so fast?”

"Oh, the doves,” Jareth nodded in understanding, he explained at her confusion. “The doves are attendants of Rhianu. She can see the future, like Igraine can see the present, and Gaenor the past.” Jareth led Belladonna down the path again, past Rowan and towards the castle. “I was right behind the two of you the entire time, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. The goblins told me a dragon had come to steal you away.”

“I thought they might.”

“You were expecting me to come after you,” he murmured, smiling lopsidedly.

“You needed a break,” Belladonna agreed with a bright smile. She gasped as they broke through the trees and she saw a wide and long bridge set over a large gorge, at the bottom of which there was a river rushing. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly again and she attached herself to Jareth’s side without hesitation. “Why must it be so high up?”

Jareth rubbed her back gently and laughed. “I suppose because they wanted to make an impression.”

Rowan, who had rejoined them by now, agreed. “Despite having the smallest land, the Witches have the most populated and beautiful city of our world.”

“Your city was once more beautiful, Rowan,” Jareth chidded. “When your people moved here, they built Cypress up in its likeness, so that you might see it and decide to move with them.”

Rowan was shocked but his attention was quickly diverted when the people and creatures walking along the bridge saw him. There were joyful exclamations and he was soon surrounded all around by people happy to see him. Someone cried that they’d thought he wouldn’t return, that he had decided to go back to Poaceae.

Jareth guided Belladonna away before they got trampled over. “Do you want to walk all the way to the castle or try to ride one of the air transports?” He pointed to the side, where there was a line of people waiting patiently to board a strange large box suspended in the air by ropes. Horrified, she watched as the people entered the box and the door closed behind them, then the box began moving down the ropes towards the castle. Another box was approaching from the castle.

“Uh,” she floundered. “I can walk. Hobbits are good at walking!”

“Walking it is, then,” chuckled Jareth. He took her hand without further ado and led her down the busy bridge. There were booths set up on either side of the bridge and reminded her of the market in Hobbiton. People and all manners of strange beings were selling everything from food, to clothes, to jewelry and even weapons! Her attention was caught by a large animal that had a long trunk and large clawed feet.

“A Baku,” Jareth said, they stopped by the animal and Belladonna noticed that there was a smaller version of it cuddling to its side, timidly looking at her and Jareth. “They are very shy creatures, able to sense evil and eat people’s bad dreams.” The little one waved its trunk at her as Jareth led her away again and she waved back happily.

The walk to the castle was made longer only because Belladonna was easily distracted by what people had out on their booths. Already someone had gifted her with a beautiful diamond comb that styled a large white rose, and Jareth had woven it into her hair.

“He just gave it to me,” Belladonna said, shocked.

“There’s no monetary system here, Bells,” Jareth said. “People trade for the things they need. These are mostly Rowan’s people and they are kind and overly generous. I’ve no doubt those diamonds are of high value in your world, so keep it safe if you take it there. It was a precious gift.” Belladonna reached up to touch the comb and nodded.

They reached the end of the bridge and crossed through a wide arched doorway. She goggled when she saw they had not, in fact, reached the castle yet. The castle was still in the distance and where they now were seemed to be a residential area. The streets were covered in cobblestones and led in many directions. The street signs were in a strange squiggly language she could not understand.

Past the residential area there was an even larger and wider arched doorway. By the time they reached the entrance to the castle, Jareth was carrying Belladonna in his arms and appearing not at all tired.

_Magic_ , she thought, and blushed thinking that perhaps he just had better stamina than her.

In the end, she had stopped admiring the view and simply laid her head upon Jareth’s shoulder. There were two statues on either side of the entrance and Jareth spoke to one, which-- much to her shock-- nodded.

“Gargoyles,” he murmured to her. “Built from stone, they are good at conveying messages to others of their kind. The Witches will know we are here.” He entered the castle and walked down a red carpeted hallway until they entered a large open room, much like the one at Rowan’s palace. There was a grand staircase leading up and then to the left and right. There was an opened doorway to the left of where they entered and another to the right.

The Three Witches were standing together at the bottom of the staircase, looking much more at ease out of their ball gowns and in their own fine robes.

Rhianu sprang forward. “Miss Belladonna, I’m so sorry!”

Belladonna allowed Jareth to place her on the ground. “For what?”

“What good is seeing the future when I can’t see bad things coming?!” Rhianu wailed unhappily.

Belladonna did not know what to say to that. She looked at Jareth and the other witches helplessly.

“There are things in this world you cannot control, Rhianu,” Igraine said. “And there always will be.”

“Still ...” Rhianu pouted. “Do you know who tried to hurt Miss Belladonna, Jareth?”

Jareth scowled fiercely. “I do not.”

“There were only two water elemental wizards at the party,” Gaenor said. “Stribog and Mizumi.”

“Both are quite suspicious,” Igraine said, she glared at her mother heatedly. “The good thing is that Belladonna is safe and sound. Let’s move on to a more pleasing subject.” She led Jareth and Belladonna through the open doorway to the right and they entered a small parlour. There were two long sofas and two armchairs situated around a small round table, on which stood a three-branch golden candlestick.

Beautiful paintings and a large ornate golden mirror lined the walls. There was a white, windowed door leading outside. She and Jareth took one of the sofas and from where she sat, she could see out the door. It led out to a garden, from what she could see.

“Can I take Miss Belladonna on a tour through the gardens?” Rhianu asked Jareth. Belladonna brightened and turned pleading eyes to him.

“Ah, he doesn’t stand a chance,” Igraine murmured to her mother. Gaenor chortled.

“Of course,” Jareth agreed brightly, though he threw a glare at the two elder witches.

Rhianu excitedly led Belladonna out the door and out into the garden. They wandered around smelling the flowers and talking about whatever came to mind. Soon they were sitting on a swinging chair and Belladonna noticed that it had grown dark.

“You can see the three moons from here,” she noted.

Rhianu looked up and smiled. “Yes, it’s the only place in Earethest where they can be seen together. I know in Goblin Kingdom you can only see two, the other one is hidden behind them.”

“Three moons for three witches,” murmured Belladonna.

“You’ve heard that poem?” Rhianu laughed. “My mother, grandmother, and I all derive our powers from the moons. People used to believe that’s where we came from, or that we were the moons ourselves. But, really, how can we be the moons when they are right up there in the sky?”

“I guess your hair doesn’t help, either.”

“I guess not,” Rhianu fingered her hair absentmindedly. “I’m surprised Jareth hasn’t come out here yet. Grandmother and Mother must be keeping him very busy. He follows you everywhere, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed he does.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?”

“No,” Belladonna laughed abruptly, abashed. “He’s always very busy running his kingdom. I like that he follows me around when he needs a break.”

“He’s more peaceful than I’ve seen him in a long time,” Rhianu agreed. She dragged her feet along the ground to get the swing moving again and settled back with her eyes on the night sky. “I can see he will be very special,” she murmured absently.

Belladonna turned to look at her in confusion. “Who will be?”

“Your son.”

“My- my- my-” Belladonna stuttered, reeling back away from Rhianu, who seemed to realize what she had said and had reached up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide and horrified. They stared at each other in abject horror.

“Is everything all right?” Came Jareth’s voice before the man himself materialized out of the darkness. He looked quizzically between them. "Is something wrong?”

“Nothing!” Belladonna replied immediately, laughing hysterically.

“It was nothing!” Rhianu cried at the same time. “Just me being silly! You know how I am!”

“I do know,” Jareth practically purred menacingly. “You’ve better not have been telling tales that shouldn’t be told.”

“Of course not!” Rhianu huffed indignantly and trotted away. Her exit would have been more dramatic if she did not immediately stumble over her robes in her haste, before managing to right herself.

“Should we head home?” Jareth asked then.

“Right,” Belladonna acknowledged, then continued in trepidation. “How are we getting there?”

They took one of the boxes down to the bridge. During the ride she remained tightly pressed against Jareth’s side, trying to settle her queasy stomach. They were met at the circle of trees by Rowan, who shifted into his dragon form and carried them both to Goblin Kingdom. The goblins were overjoyed to see their king return with his lady. They said their farewells to Rowan, who promised to return to visit them again much to Jareth’s consternation. Then made their way up to the castle for some much needed rest.

By the time Belladonna reached her third month in Goblin Kingdom, Rowan had indeed visited quite often and had become something of a common fixture in Goblin City, where the goblins now knew better than to walk anywhere behind him-- because he tended to shift forms willy-nilly.

Time passed differently in Eatherest-- which she had discovered was the name of Jareth’s world-- than it did in Middle-earth. The days were twenty-six hours long, there were thirty-five days in a month, and thirteen months made up a year. The people of Eatherest seemed to do a great many things by thirteens and she found it odd because in the Shire, the number thirteen was considered unlucky.

She and Jareth made plans to return to the Shire after receiving news that her brother, Hildigrim, was getting married and they were invited to the wedding. She found herself both boggled and excited at the prospect of her brother getting married. Since young, Hildigrim had been dead set on remaining a bachelor all his life. Whoever the hobbit lass who had ensnared him was, she must have been a piece of work!

Belladonna had been forced to chase Jareth away when the wizard had attempted to pack all the beautiful dresses he had made for her. Those beautiful dresses had no business being in the Shire, where she would already stand out like a sore-thumb. She had grown steadily thinner due to her time spent in the Labyrinth everyday, missing many meals while she wandered around discovering its secrets. She had grown accustomed to eating three meals a day, the amount of meals she knew Jareth required every day.

While they were to be gone, Rowan-- whom the goblins had taken to calling Chief Advisor, much to his delight-- would be taking care of any business that needed taking care of. He had gleefully advised Jareth to take a long vacation and then leaned in to whisper that Jareth really looked like he needed a vacation. When Jareth had looked to Belladonna as if to ask if this were true, she had simply nodded with a grim expression.

Jareth wasn’t even wearing the face paint around his eyes and his hair, which had looked to be wildly styled before, now simply looked wild. Belladonna did not know what had been causing him more problems than the usual-- _goblins_ \-- and he did not wish her to worry so did not tell her. Though clearly Rowan knew what was happening and looked determined to put an end to the problem.

“Since Rowan is offering you a vacation,” Belladonna said one night, while she and Jareth spent time doing what they did every night-- which was spend time in the library with Jareth explaining the history of Earathest and anything else she wanted to know. “Perhaps we can travel to the Iron Mountains and deliver a letter for Hoggle.”

“A letter?”

“To his family, if they’re still there, of course,” she glared when Jareth moved to protest. “I already promised I would do it. Do you want me to break a promise?”

Jareth grumbled. “We don’t even know where these Iron Mountains are.”

“Oh, that’s the easy part! The hard part will be getting there! I think the Iron Mountains are on the other side of the world from the Shire.”

“Marvelous,” Jareth muttered.

“I think Gandalf will be at the wedding, too! So we can ask him for help!”

“I did want to meet this wizard ...”

“And maybe we can see _Elves_!” Belladonna was vibrating with excitement. “For all manner of fantastical beings that live on Eatherest, there are no Elves.”

“No, not as you’ve described yours, at least,” Jareth acquiesced.

“And Dwarves!”

Jareth sighed and realized he’d lost Belladonna’s attention. He gazed upon her fondly as she worked herself up with thoughts and dreams of seeing Elves and Dwarves.

“I imagine the _Lythari_ don’t count?”

Belladonna wrinkled her nose. “I know you said they were elves, but they didn’t consider themselves as such, did they?”

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t really know much about them. That small pack of them we met is the first in Eatherest.”

“Are there often new races appearing here?”

“There are,” he replied. “If one of the Four Emperors believes a race would be better suited to living in Eatherest, then they will offer them a place here. Usually it’s only small groups that move.”

“Who brought the Lythari here, then?”

“It would have had to be Rowan, but he would have mentioned something like that, I think.”

Belladonna lost interest in the conversation again as she thought about possibly meeting Elves and Dwarves. She was so excited that she hardly got any sleep that night, tossing and turning in her bed. When Jareth walked into her room, expecting her to be up and ready-- as she usually was at that time-- he found her still asleep with the blankets tightly encased around her body from head to toe.

She swatted at him sleepily when he attempted to rouse her from sleep and he was forced to dig her out of the blankets and carry her to the bathroom.

“If we don’t leave within the hour, the goblins will find some excuse to keep us here, Bells,” he said as he turned the faucets of her custom made bathtub.

She swatted at him sleepily, trying to push him out of the room. “I can do it myself, thank you!”

“Are you sure you don’t need help-”

“Good heavens, no!” she cried and slammed the door in his face.

She was ready to go in less than an hour, with one of her hobbit dresses put on. Fresh and clean, if a little loose around her thinner form. She thought about putting something around her waist so no one would notice she had lost weight. Like a pillow or something.

“They’ll think you’ve been underfeeding me!” she cried morosely. Jareth tried to placate her by proposing that he make her dress smaller at the waist. “We don’t have _time_ for that! Also, they would notice the difference when they hugged me!”

“Then we’ll just have to deal with the matter when it comes,” Jareth said. He gathered her into his arms and gently bestowed a kiss upon her cheek. “I would do anything for you, you understand?”

“I do,” she said, kissing him back on the cheek. She laid her chin upon his shoulder as she thought. “Do _you_ understand that you’ll have to stop picking me up once we get to the Shire?”

Jareth made a small distressed sound and tightened his hold on her. “But why? I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

“Maybe not,” she said agreeably. “But it’ll be my brother’s wedding and I’ll not have it ruined by gossiping hobbits with nothing better to do. Understand?”

“Yes, my dear,” Jareth sighed unhappily. He saw the group of goblins sticking their heads around the opened door, their noses wrinkled with distaste. “I do believe it’s time for us to go.” Jareth carried a small bag which was magically expanded on the inside to make it bigger while still remaining small and light on the outside. They met Rowan and the Prime Minister, Røem Bååbå, in the throne room and said their farewells.

Rowan knelt before Belladonna and placed a necklace about her neck. “ _Momeno geou troth wux_ ,” he said, tapping the stone hanging from the chain. She examined it closely, amazed at the strange colors that seemed to swirl within it. Ranging from red, to orange, maybe even purple. She couldn’t really tell. “Crystallized dragon’s breath. It will bring you good luck and if you ever need help, just break it and I will come.” He moved onto Jareth, whom he drew into a tight hug, much to the man’s discomfort. “Try to _enjoy_ yourself and get some rest. You look dead on your feet.”

“Thanks,” Jareth tossed his hair back self-consciously, frowning at Belladonna when she giggled and then tried to appear innocent. “Let’s be off, then.” He took her hand and from one instant to the next, they went from being in the throne room to standing right before the door of the Great Smials.

Isengar, who had be loitering around the front of the house, screamed when they appeared. Belladonna and Jareth reeled back in shock.

“Are you trying to scare me to death?!” Isengar shouted angrily. “Well, I won’t let you!” He ran off before either of them could give him an answer. Quickly disappearing over a hill and leaving them standing there in a shocked silence.

“Belladonna Took!” Adamanta cried with a loud squeal that almost sent Belladonna running after Isengar. Adamanta sprung forward to hug her daughter, almost lifting her right off the ground before pushing her back quickly. “You’ve gotten thinner!”

Belladonna groaned dramatically. “It’s not what you think!”

“And what am I thinking?” her mother asked.

“How should I know?” Belladonna snarked automatically, immediately looking contrite as her hand reached up to cover her mouth. Adamanta’s eyebrows had vanished into her hair and her eyes were in danger of falling out of their sockets. “Sorry, Mother. I’ve been spending too much time with the goblins.”

Adamanta’s lips thinned but she said nothing else, instead stepping to the side as Gerontius ran forward to hug his daughter.

“My little adventuress has returned!” Gerontius swung her around. “You must tell me all about where you’ve been, who you’ve met, if-”

“That can wait until later!” said Adamanta, irritated. “Honestly! Now where did Isengar vanish to?”

“He saw us and ran away,” Belladonna explained. She happily greeted her brothers and sisters, who had been drawn by the commotion and the open door. She nudged at Hildigrim with a sly smile, “So, who is the _lucky_ girl?”

“You’ll meet her when you meet her,” Hildigrim said defensively, blushing heavily. He looked over her shoulder at where Adamanta and Gerontius were talking with Jareth, who looked both amused yet horrified by whatever they were saying. “So, you were gone for four months. Did you do anything _exciting_?”

Belladonna snorted. “It was exciting all right.”

“Do tell!” Isengrim demanded as he and Reynard, his husband, leaned their chins on Hildigrim’s shoulders.

“Perchance you lads can give your sister and Jareth time to get settled before demanding stories?” Gerontius scolded, though he looked about ready to start demanding stories himself.

“You’re both set up in your room, Belladonna,” Adamanta said.

“What …?” Belladonna said faintly.

Adamanta scowled slightly. “There are no more rooms available, dear. I imagine you’re accustomed to sleeping with Jareth, though.”

“Oh, good heavens!” Belladonna squealed and slapped at her burning cheeks. “What has Sqeek been telling you?”

“Then it’s not true?” Adamanta seemed immensely relieved.

“Of course it’s not true, Mother,” Belladonna growled lowly. She threw a nervous glance at Jareth, who was now standing with the rest of the group while she and her mother talked. “What type of person do you take me for?”

Adamanta looked ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s not that I don’t trust you...” She threw a glance over her shoulder at Jareth and Belladonna scowled. “I imagine I’ve been very unfair to him.”

“How do you mean _unfair_?” Belladonna wondered. “We haven’t even seen you in months!”

“In my mind, dear,” Adamanta admitted. “Nevermind that, though. The problem still remains that we don’t have anymore available rooms. The boys are all sharing with each other already. Unless Jareth would like to get a room in Bree. Or perhaps he’s not staying at all? Oh! Did he only drop you off, dear? Is he leaving?”

“Mother!” Belladonna hissed angrily. “Jareth will be staying with me. He will not be staying in Bree, nor will he be leaving! Honestly, Mother! He was invited to the wedding, too!”

“I know that, dear!” Adamanta whispered back. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Goodness, it’s not as though he cannot leave and return for the wedding day. He will be leaving after the wedding either way, won’t he?”

“He will not. Jareth has promised to take me to the Iron Mountains, Mother. He and I will be traveling there to deliver a letter and we will be stopping by Rivendell on the way, to meet Elves.”

Adamanta sputtered incoherently at this while Belladonna firmly stood her ground, arms crossed and expression hard.

“What’s happening here?” Gerontius wondered, he took his wife’s elbow in his hand and looked at her worriedly.

“Your daughter!” Adamanta cried heatedly. “Planning to travel to the Iron Mountains and to Rivendell and to who knows where else!”

“Is that so?” Gerontius asked, his eyes were shining and there was a twinkle of pride in his gaze as he looked upon his daughter. He turned narrowed eyes towards Jareth, who moved to stand behind Belladonna. “Not by herself, though, is she?”

“Of course not,” Jareth said with surprise.

“Gerontius Took!” Adamanta screeched, grabbing her husband by the ear. “Is that all you can say?”

Jareth allowed Belladonna to guide him quickly away from her parents, before Adamanta realized they were gone. The others had quickly dispersed as well, no one wanted to be around when Adamanta was angry.

They headed into the smial, from the entrance hall you could hear the commotion in the banquet hall and see the people running in the hallways. Belladonna led the way up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom.

“I guess we’ll be rooming together,” she said, trying to seem nonchalant while her cheeks burned brightly. This was the first time Jareth had been in her room and he gazed about curiously.

“As long as it’s not a bother,” he agreed distractedly.

“We’ll only stay for the wedding, which is the day after tomorrow,” Belladonna said, she went to her closet and rummaged around for extra blankets. Behind her, Jareth was peaking around her vanity table. He gently picked up a doll that sat against the mirror and looked at it closely before placing it back, then he lifted a pretty box that seemed designed to play music, there was a stack of books off to the side and maps were strewn all across the table. Jareth smiled to himself, Belladonna did not have any type of makeup or jewelry on her vanity table. The doll itself was seemingly sitting there as an afterthought and had probably been left by Adamanta.

He looked over his shoulder at Belladonna, who was struggling to separate two thick and wooly blankets and muttering to herself. “Perhaps we can set that up later, Bells?”

Belladonna pouted at him and let go of the blankets with a huff. “What do you propose we do in the meantime then?”

“I propose you give me a tour of the Shire,” said Jareth. “At least, whatever is close.”

She speculated over the thought for a moment. “We can walk up to Hobbiton, if you like. I’ll show you the Party Tree, that’s where the wedding will be held. It’s where all festivities are held.”

“That sounds wonderful,” before they left her room, however, Jareth quickly reached down to lift her into his arms. She was only startled for a second before reaching automatically to wind her arms about his neck.

The two of them would have stayed there gazing into each other’s eyes all night, if not for Adamanta suddenly entering the room.

“Belladonna, dear-” Adamanta began, only to stop abruptly in the doorway, eyes growing enormously wide and bulging out of her face.

Belladonna blushed hotly. “Mother! It’s not- You see- Well- Jareth!”

Jareth slowly placed her on the ground again, then straightened himself back up and made sure to keep his hands behind his back, though he was itching with the need to hold Belladonna in his arms again. Adamanta continued to gape, her mouth working uselessly to form words.

“Jareth and I were heading to see the Party Tree! We’ll be back soon!” Belladonna gently steered her mother out of the way and then led Jareth out into the hallway. They almost passed by Reynard, who was leaning against the doorway of his and Isengrim’s rooms with a perplexed expression on his face. Peeking around his shoulder Belladonna saw that Isengar, Isengrim, and Mirabella were creating a large tent in the middle of the room. “Babysitting duty?”

Reynard smiled wryly at her. “Where are the two of you off to?”

“Oh! The Party Field!” Belladonna grabbed Jareth’s hand and dragged him down the hallway. “Better go quick before Mother comes to her senses.”

The two of them snuck out of the smial as quietly as they could, which was to say they were sidetracked by almost everyone they ran across,  before finally making it outside. From there, Belladonna merrily skipped alongside a bemused Jareth towards Hobbiton. Belladonna didn’t follow the roads, instead leading him through thickets and other people’s lands, until they reached another road she called “East Road.”

There were a few hobbits walking along the East Road that threw Jareth suspicious glances and Belladonna received plenty of strange looks herself. Jareth walked closely alongside her, glaring at the hobbits that dared look upon them with distaste and drawing a giggle out of her when he sent one hobbit fleeing with a squeak.

Belladonna stumbled when they turned onto Bywater Road and Jareth steadied her as he looked at what had drawn her gaze. It was Hildifons standing alongside the road, talking very animatedly with another hobbit. The hobbit was rather short, not even a head taller than Belladonna herself, who was rather tiny even compared to the other hobbits Jareth had seen. He had curly brown hair, large brown eyes, and a button nose. From his  brass buttons to his starched white shirt with its ruffled sleeves, Jareth easily concluded that the hobbit was very well off.

The hobbit laughed brightly at something Hildifons said and his cheeks were dusted with pink as he gazed up at the taller hobbit. Hildifons was rubbing the back of his neck nervously, blushing brightly himself.

Belladonna’s expression was awed as she gazed at the two. There was evident surprise in her eyes and a sort of understanding, too. She slowly made her way to them and Jareth followed obediently behind her. The unknown hobbit was the first to notice them approaching and he smiled widely at Belladonna and gave her a merry wave.

“Belladonna!” he exclaimed. “I’d been wondering where you’d gone and vanished off to!”

“Good afternoon, Bungo,” she said happily and then continued slyly, “You were probably bored without me around, heh?”

“Oh, of course,” Bungo agreed brightly. “Who else would I beat at conkers?”

“ _You_ beat _me_?” Belladonna snorted unladylike and placed her fists on her hips. “That will be the day, indeed! You haven’t beaten me since I was ten and you cheated that time!”

Jareth and Hildifons exchanged bemused yet befuddled glances and Jareth wondered why the name _Bungo_ sounded so familiar to him.

“Cheat? Outrageous!” Bungo frowned and copied her stance. Jareth had the sudden mental image of two bulls butting heads. “I am a Baggins and a Baggins never cheats!”

“Easy, you two!” Hildifons finally intervened, easily sliding in between the two of them. “It always amazes me how seriously you take that game.” He cringed when two sets of angry eyes turned towards him. “Not that it’s not a great game!” He said more to Bungo than Belladonna, who gained a curious look again.

“Oh, but last time I mentioned conkers, you told me it was a game for children,” Belladonna said sweetly, her expression one Jareth had become increasingly familiar with. The one that meant she was planning your demise in her mind and it was not going to be pretty. “In fact, I can recall many times before that when you told me that conkers was a _waste of time_. Also, a game that only someone extremely _childish_ and _juvenile_ would _ever_ play.”

Hildifons sputtered and tried to-- uselessly-- defend himself, while Bungo practically fumed at his side.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Honestly!” Hildifons cried, but instead of defending himself against Belladonna, he was facing Bungo and trying to calm the angry hobbit down.

Meanwhile, Jareth remembered why the name “Bungo Baggins” sounded so familiar to him and pulled Belladonna gently to the side. “This is Bungo Baggins? The one Isengar was teasing you about?”

Belladonna blushed and nodded, “But look at them.” She motioned towards Hildifons and Bungo, who was quickly losing his anger and staring up at the other hobbit with bright eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hildifons be so animated with someone and Bungo _never_ laughs, he’s very serious at all times.”

Bungo shuffled his feet and stepped away from Hildifons with a sheepish smile, his eyes drawn to Belladonna and Jareth. “Hullo, Bungo Baggins, at your service.”

“Jareth,” introduced Jareth.

Bungo raised an eyebrow questioningly, seemingly waiting for more.

“It’s just Jareth,” Belladonna explained. “We’re heading to the Party Field. I want to show Jareth the Party Tree.”

“If you go there, it’s likely you’ll be roped into helping with the decorations, Bella,” Hildifons warned.

“Then we’ll help,” Belladonna shrugged uncaringly. She began her walk again, expecting Jareth to walk beside her. She did not expect Bungo and Hildifons to join them, though they did.

“You didn’t even ask Jareth if he wanted to help with the decorations, dear sister,” Hildifons laughed and turned inquiring eyes upon Jareth, “You could say no.”

“I’ve learned it’s easier to simply agree and go along with whatever she wishes,” Jareth said fondly. “She always gets her way in the end either way.” Belladonna smiled at him brightly and took his offered hand, easily skipping along at his side.

“ _Are they …_?” Bungo whispered to Hildifons, who muttered something back that Jareth could not make out. He decided to ignore their furiously whispered conversation and instead focused on Belladonna, who appeared to be ignoring the two hobbits behind them as well.

They reached Hobbiton in due time and then the Party Field, where preparations for Hildigrim’s wedding were taking place. There were hobbit women running around hanging decorations and hobbit men setting up tables and chairs. Hildifons dragged Bungo away from the decorating and they vanished down another road, with Bungo waving back at them.

“That was very strange,” Belladonna muttered to Jareth as she waved at a group of hobbit lasses who greeted her. “I didn’t know Hildifons was sweet on Bungo.”

“They are very cute together,” said Jareth seriously.

Belladonna graced him with a deadpan look. “You’re just saying that because you think I’m sweet on Bungo.”

“Then you’re not?” he asked nonchalantly.

She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I’m here with _you_. I’m holding _your_ hand. I let _you_ carry me around.”

Jareth smiled widely and nodded along with her statements. “You are quite correct, my dear. I suppose that means you’re _sweet_ on _me_?”

Belladonna had no time to answer as they were accosted by an elderly woman, who glared at Jareth suspiciously until Belladonna introduced him as a wizard. After that, the hobbits seemed to grudgingly accept his presence and the children swarmed around him demanding fireworks. He had no idea what being a wizard had to do with fireworks and instead entertained them with some parlour tricks.

He made sure to keep an eye on Belladonna, who had been roped into helping hang up lights with her friends. Eventually Bungo and Hildifons made their way to the field and helped Jareth entertain the children, though he didn’t really need their help. The children appeared to love Jareth and instead clamored around him demanding his attention, be it by crawling into his lap two or more at a time, or sitting around him listening to his stories with their undivided attention. Even Bungo and Hildifons found themselves captivated by the tales he told of a world called Eatherest and a man who was King of the Goblins.

At the end of the day, the parents collected their children from Jareth, gratefully expressing their thanks to him for keeping them occupied. Sleepy hobbit children waved to Jareth and one capricious little hobbit lass even demanded a kiss, which Jareth bestowed upon her little hand. Unaware of Belladonna watching him from nearby with a warm expression and a smile on her face.

“I think I need a long hot bath,” said Belladonna once they began making their way back to the smials. She stretched her aching body and didn’t protest when Jareth gathered her into his arms, ignoring the looks her brother and Bungo threw at them as she laid her head upon Jareth’s shoulder and nuzzled her cheek against his warmth.

“I’ll walk Bungo home, then,” Hildifons said.

“That’s not necessary!” Bungo protested, holding his palms out towards Hildifons in a peaceful gesture when the hobbit looked annoyed. “I only live down the road.”

“So it won’t matter if I take a moment to walk you home,” Hildifons insisted.

“You really shouldn’t bother,” Bungo tried.

“He’s going to follow you home whether you like it or not, Bungo,” said Belladonna with a tired sigh. “Might as well give in now. We Tooks are mighty stubborn.” Her keen eyes gazed at Bungo over Jareth’s shoulder. “Or maybe you don’t want to head home? If you don’t want to go home, then you should come stay with us! There’s still plenty of space in Hildifons’ room.”

Bungo shuffled his feet awkwardly and Hildifons looked happy at the thought of having the younger hobbit spend the night in his room.

“I’ll need clean clothes,” Bungo groused.

“You can borrow some of mine, no worries,” Hildifons grinned excitedly and began dragging Bungo along. “We’ll just tell your parents you helped us out well into the night and decided to stay with us.”

“That makes no sense,” Bungo grumbled but allowed Hildifons to drag him along by the hand.

Jareth continued carrying Belladonna down the road, listening to Hildifons jabber eagerly to Bungo, and eventually allowing the elder of the Took siblings present to lead them along a shortcut back to the Great Smials. Belladonna was asleep and snoring softly into Jareth’s ear by the time they reached the ancestral Took home. Adamanta, who was sitting on a bench outside waiting for them, immediately closed her mouth as she was about to yell at them when Jareth glared at her.

She worked for something to say before simply turning to face Hildifons and Bungo. “Bungo Baggins, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Good evening, Missus Took,” Bungo greeted with a rather charming smile that made Adamanta blush and twitter. “I was invited to spend the night. I hope it’s not a bother.”

Jareth quickly sneaked around Adamanta while she was distracted. The house was quiet as he climbed up the stairs with Belladonna in his arms. Gerontius was sitting in the parlour and he nodded at Jareth, waving him away when he stopped at the doorway.

In Belladonna’s bedroom, Jareth set her gently upon her bed and tucked the covers around her. “You’ll have your warm bath tomorrow, I think,” he murmured to her softly, tucking her stray strands of hair behind her pointy ear. He leaned against the small bed and ran his fingers against her cheek. Long into the night, until the lights burned out and he fell asleep with his hand holding hers and their fingers intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;3 I can't believe Bilbo's almost here. This chapter went really wrong for the simple reason that I combined two chapters by accident, completely forgetting where I was going to stop and then I just kept writing until I came to a good place where I could stop. I'm sure it's better this way (no, not really).
> 
> Eep. Forgot to add that Hildifons is actually based on his [character from Guardians of Middle-earth](http://www.guardiansofmiddleearth.com/guardians/hildifons). Because he's pretty awesome and kick-butt!


	7. An Adventure Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, the river flooded. Thankfully we live far away enough and on a hill that the water did not reach us but we've been helping with sandbags and stuff. What a pain. I hope the rain lets up, at this rate downtown will get completely flooded again. The hazards of living by a river, I suppose.
> 
> I'm time-skipping through all the camping, wood-gathering, fire-building, and horse-riding that happens when people go on a journey. We'll just assume that all of that happened and it was all awesome! D:

Gandalf the Gray was not exactly what Jareth had been expecting. He was … well … he was _old_. In appearance. Jareth didn’t think he’d ever seen an immortal being look so old. Not even Gaenor, who was quite possibly the oldest being he knew, older than even the Four Emperors.

Aside from his appearance, however, Gandalf turned out to be a very jolly and charming fellow. When he produced some fireworks for the children, Jareth realized he was the reason the tiny hobbits always asked _him_ for fireworks. And what fireworks they were. He was good at what he did, Jareth admitted, even if he couldn’t enlarge a simple chair to sit in comfortably.

“Our magic does not work quite the same way, Master Jareth,” Gandalf had grumbled sourly when Jareth had gleefully enlarged a chair for the Istari to sit in. But Gandalf grumbled a lot, so Jareth had quickly learned to ignore him.

Gandalf tended to grumble quite a bit about the males of the Took family. Muttering “fool” under his breath very often in regards to Isengar, mostly. Hildifons also seemed to be on the receiving end of a lot of Gandalf’s ire, especially when the hobbit would hover insistently over Bungo Baggins.

News that Hildifons fancied Bungo had quickly spread around the Great Smials until nearly everyone knew. Although the idea seemed to bother Gandalf greatly, why that was so Jareth had no idea and the Istari was unforthcoming. It was not as though Bungo was not interested in Hildifons either, their mutual fondness was painfully obvious to anyone who bothered to observe the two of them together.

Gandalf seemed equally befuddled when he saw Jareth and Belladonna together. Once even daring to ask Belladonna if she still fancied Bungo Baggins, much to her ire. She had raged at a very contrite Gandalf for a good long while before Jareth had managed to lure her away.

“You seem to have the power to alter even the hands of time,” Gandalf had complained to  Jareth later. “Or the very strings of fate.”

Hildigrim’s wedding went off without a hitch, though Belladonna never actually managed to learn the bride’s name. Apparently a hobbit lass from Bree whom Hildigrim had met a year prior when she had visited the Shire. Belladonna had been very shocked to learn that Hildigrim had managed to keep his relationship with her hidden for an entire year, even from their own parents.

The wedding had been very different from the ones Jareth had witnessed in Eatherest. Although those weddings were between goblins-- which were very rare nowadays-- or other races who had very different wedding rituals.

He had stood off to one side with Gandalf, as they towered over all the hobbits in attendance. Belladonna had refused to wear the dress he had picked out for her, claiming that she would attract more attention than the bride and then the bride-- whatever her name was-- would certainly kill her. Even with the modest dress she had decided to wear, Jareth’s eyes were constantly drawn towards her and he ended up missing most of the ceremony.

At the reception, Jareth had enlarged a table and chairs for him and Gandalf to sit in. They were joined by Belladonna, Hildifons, and Bungo-- who had struggled to get on his chair before allowing Hildifons to help him up.

Belladonna and Jareth spoke with Gandalf about their plans to go to the Iron Mountains and he seemed genuinely intrigued. Belladonna-- much to everyone’s bewilderment-- retrieved a map from the folds of her dress and slapped it down on the table. They all leaned forward to look down at it, confused when they noticed that the map was just a blank piece of parchment.

“Rowan gave this to me, he said it was enchanted paper?”

“Who is Rowan?” Hildifons wondered.

“Enchanted paper, very rare in Eatherest,” said Jareth. “It’s supposed to show whatever you ask of it, but I don’t really know how to it works.”

Gandalf oohed and ahhed as he examined the paper. “I have never heard of this Eatherest. Is this where you hail from?”

“Eatherest is the world in which I live, though it is not my home world,” said Jareth. As he said this he touched the paper and words began appearing along the it.

“Ah!” Gandalf exclaimed and he grabbed the paper to read it. “Eatherest, the world of the Four Emperors. It is divided into five distinct regions-”

“You can read that later,” Belladonna interrupted, taking the paper from his hands and laying it upon the table again. Gandalf squawked indignantly but sat back with a huff at her menacing glare. “One just has to think about the place while touching it … but what if I want a map to the Iron Mountains? Oh!”

They all leaned forward again as lines began spreading across the paper and branching out into roads, rivers, mountains, and forests.

“The Blue Mountains?” wondered Belladonna. “I’m confused. Hoggle said his family lived in the Iron Mountains.”

“Who is Hoggle?” Hildifons wondered again.

“Indeed?” Gandalf inquired as he puffed away with his pipe. “The Iron Mountains ranged from east to west, connecting Ered Luin with Orocarni. But the mountain was distorted during the wars between the Valar and Melkor. Your friend Hoggle would have been born during the First Age of Middle-earth, to have lived in the Iron Mountains.”

“Good heavens, that long ago?” Belladonna demanded as she turned to Jareth. “How long has Hoggle been living at Goblin Kingdom?”

“Three hundred years? Honestly, Bells, I do not know,” Jareth shrugged unapologetically. “I can’t be expected to remember how long everyone has been living in my kingdom.”

“Then time must pass quite differently in this world of yours,” Gandalf concluded.

“But I was in Goblin Kingdom for three months and only four months had passed in the Shire!” Belladonna cried, drawing the attention of hobbits sitting at the other nearby tables. They all pretended to eat heartily until the attention diverted away. “They have twenty-six hour days, thirty-five days in a month, and thirteen months a year.”

“But the time passes differently also, slower than our own from the sound of it,” Gandalf said. His companions continued to look confused, even Jareth, and with a great sigh he tried to explain. “This world, Eatherest, may have twenty-six hour days but perhaps in Middle-earth those twenty-six hours are two days or three. You have to wonder whether Master Jareth travels backwards or forwards in time when he travels between worlds.”

“I honestly do not know,” Jareth admitted. “I have never bothered to question my ability to travel between worlds and I have only met a handful of other wizards who can do the same.” He looked at Belladonna-- who looked to be as lost with the conversation as Bungo and Hildifons-- as he continued. “Not even the Three Witches can travel between worlds. Only the Four Emperors, Mizumi, and myself have the ability.”

“An intriguing concept,” Gandalf muttered. He returned his attention to the enchanted paper that still showed a map to the Blue Mountains. “I imagine this friend of yours is a Dwarf. If there were Dwarves living in the Iron Mountains, they would have likely moved west to the Blue Mountains or east to the Iron Hills … If they survived, that is.”

Belladonna looked most upset by this and she was holding an envelope in her hands. “The Blue Mountains are closer … but I thought there were no Dwarves living there.”

“I do not know,” Gandalf said. “There were two cities in the mountains, but both were abandoned long ago. If there are Dwarves living in the Blue Mountains, I would not know where to begin searching. You would be better off traveling to the Iron Hills,” the enchanted paper he was touching changed to show a new route.

“That’s a long way!” Hildifons muttered, then he brightened considerably. “But look, the path leads through Rivendell!”

“Oh, Rivendell!” Belladonna squealed excitedly.

The two of them whispered furiously to each other over the map with Belladonna looking annoyed, then understanding, and finally resigned while Hildifons simply looked determined and then triumphant.

“What do you mean you’re going with them?” Bungo demanded in shock, apparently having understood the two siblings easily.

Hildifons smiled sheepishly at him. “I’ve always wanted to go adventuring. This is just earlier than I had anticipated.” Bungo began looking most upset. “There’s really nothing stopping you from coming along, too, Bungo.”

Belladonna pouted, but then shrugged and nodded. “It’s true. If Hildifons is coming, you might as well tag along too!”

Bungo stared at the two of them with a wide-eyed horrified look. “I could never. I’m not very brave, you know.”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard,” Belladonna growled.

What followed was the most remarkably astonishing argument Gandalf and Jareth had ever witnessed. With Belladonna and Bungo bonking each other on the head periodically and then flailing at each other over the table and for a while Belladonna looked to be losing but then seemed to get her second or third or maybe fourth wind. So by the end, Bungo was laying his head on the table while Belladonna repeatedly slapped him on the back with a triumphant look on her face.

“I think you've knocked all hobbit-sense out of me already,” Bungo grumbled irritably. “You can stop hitting me now.”

“Nonsense!” Belladonna chirped happily, unaware of all the attention they had gathered. Although their table was far back enough that the newlyweds were not disturbed by their antics or had even noticed the commotion. Fortunately, many of the hobbits sitting nearby were apparently accustomed to seeing such things and returned to their own conversations.

There was a toast held in honor of the newlyweds at one point that none of them paid any attention to, their heads bent over the map again and whispering to each other. Then some of the tables were moved out of the way as the groom led his bride around a makeshift dance floor.

“You owe me a dance,” Belladonna hissed to Jareth at one point.

“You said I couldn’t carry you around while in the Shire,” he hissed back petulantly.

“Do _you_ want to dance?” Hildifons breathed towards Bungo hesitantly.

“I’d rather not, my back is sore,” Bungo glared at Belladonna while he said this, who stuck her tongue out at him unrepentantly.

Gandalf grumbled that no one had asked _him_ if he wanted to dance.

They remained huddled around their table for the rest of the night, even when some stray hobbit lasses wandered over and shyly asked Bungo, Hildifons, and even Jareth to dance. They were turned down gently but absentmindedly while Belladonna glared heatedly at the one brave hobbit lass who had asked Jareth for a dance. The hobbit lads were treated to much the same when they ventured around to ask Belladonna for a dance, though they got four rather heated glares instead of one. After the first couple had been run off scared witless, the other boys decided not to risk the wrath of Belladonna’s four companions.

“Well, I think I’m in need of a good adventure,” Gandalf decided. “I hope you won’t mind if an old wizard like me tags along as well.”

Jareth looked annoyed and was ready to turn his offer down but thankfully Belladonna appeared to be the decision maker of the two and she gladly accepted his offer. At one point of the night, Hildifons dragged Bungo away from the party. Off in the general direction of the Baggins’ home with the idea of gathering some of Bungo’s belongings before his parents returned from the festivities.

Gandalf walked back to the Great Smials with Belladonna and Jareth, telling them of his travels around Middle-earth and of the things he had seen. He spoke of his visit to the Lady Galadriel in Lothlorien and of his friend, the Wizard Saruman.

Gandalf spent the night at the Great Smials, speaking with Gerontius in the parlour well into the night. Likely telling the Old Took of his daughter and son’s plans to kidnap young Bungo Baggins and drag him halfway around Middle-earth to see Dwarves. Although only half of that was true, since technically Hildifons _was_ kidnapping Bungo-- with the hobbit’s consent-- to drag him along on their adventure. Belladonna had nothing to do with that.

Instead she was lying cozily cuddled up against Jareth in her bed which he had enlarged, feeling very happy and satisfied with herself and the world. She had refused to allow Jareth to sleep on the floor again after the crick he’d had in his neck that morning when she’d found him sleeping against her bed with his head leaned back against the top.

Besides, she thought sleepily, she liked having him there beside her.

The following day was spent packing. Not only Belladonna and Hildifons, but also all the guests who had traveled from Bree and had been invited to stay in the Great Smials. Belladonna and Jareth had met some of them in passing and Belladonna found them very likeable. They were Bree-hobbits and accustomed to being around Big Folk such as Jareth, so they did not treat him unkindly or send him suspicious looks as the Shire-hobbits did.

Jareth found their company very refreshing and so did the other Tooks, all but Adamanta who frowned disapprovingly at all of them but more at her daughter. Jareth found himself suddenly lacking Belladonna’s company at one point in time and discovered that she’d been accosted by her mother and the two were in a heated argument when he found them. Belladonna subtly waved Jareth away and the man left them with a frown.

His presence seemed to be causing no end of problems for Belladonna, at least as far her mother was concerned. The rest of the Took family either found him to be enjoyable company or simply ignored his existence. He couldn’t win all battles, after all. Albeit he found it eased his inner turmoil to learn that they treated Gandalf much the same way, for all that they had known him far longer.

After the argument with her mother Belladonna declared that they were leaving _immediately_ , still they weren’t even done packing. Bungo was already packed and had been since the night before and it was Hildifons who had trouble with his own bag, undecided on what he would need on their journey. The two spent much of their time arguing over the things Hildifons wanted to take along and Jareth had absolutely no clue as to how they managed to get anything done in the end. Hobbits were the most perplexing people, but most especially those two.

Belladonna was much better at packing than her brother and packed much of the same things she had when she’d gone to Goblin Kingdom. This time without her mother breathing over her shoulder and telling her she shouldn’t go because it wasn’t _respectable_ for a young lady to be wandering about with strange men.

Gandalf was fascinated by Jareth’s bag and proceeded to stick his arm in and then his head, much to everyone’s amusement. When asked about where he could get such a bag, Jareth merely told him that his had been crafted by Rowan, one of the Four Emperors of Eatherest, and it was one of a small handful. Three, as far as Jareth knew.

All packs were placed inside the bag, which remained the same size despite the bulk of the packs and did not become heavy either. Then Jareth swiftly tied the bag to his belt and waited as Belladonna and Hildifons bid farewell to their family. Adamanta was still not amenable to the idea of her children going off halfway around the world but held her tongue and hugged them both tightly. She even hugged Bungo, much to his bewilderment. Then they were off.

“Are we passing through Hobbiton?” asked Bungo worriedly, dragging his walking stick along. “Everyone will see us.”

Hildifons nudged his shoulder against Bungo’s, having to stoop down a little in order to do so. Then he switched his own walking stick to his left hand and grasped Bungo’s hand with his right. The younger hobbit blushed and ducked his head shyly.

Belladonna frowned at the two of them and reached up to grasp Jareth’s hand tightly in her own, turning her nose up when Jareth threw her a bemused smile.

They were not far from Tuckborough before they were joined by a line of wagons heading the same way as they. It was the family and guests of the lass Hildigrim had married, all Bree-hobbits heading back to their home. The head wagon stopped at their side and the driver asked where they were going and if they’d like a ride, which they all happily accepted. Though Gandalf hesitantly climbed into the back of the wagon and it creaked under his weight.

“Not to worry, Master Gandalf!” chirped the driver, puffing away at his pipe. “My wagon may creak but she will not fail. She’s ferried many Big Folk to and fro.”

Even so, Jareth did not think the wagon would hold his added weight and shifted to his owl form, much to the amazement of the driver and other Bree-hobbits who saw him. He cuddled up against Belladonna in the back of the wagon and even allowed Bungo to pet him.

Hildifons had chosen to sit at front with the driver and the two became engaged in a conversation about the best way to get to Rivendell. The wagon train began moving down the road again and Bungo made sure to keep his head down when they passed through Hobbiton, though it appeared he did not have to because the Shire-hobbits made sure to stay far away from the Bree-hobbits, looking upon them with obvious distaste. Although the Bree-hobbits, too, looked upon the Shire-hobbits with obvious dislike.

“The ancient mutual contempt of the Dwarves and Elves, recreated in the Hobbits,” said Gandalf, shaking his head in amusement.

The driver barked a laugh. “Truer words never spoken!”

They passed through Brandywine Bridge in around six hours, though Belladonna had lost track of time so it might have been longer. Owl Jareth was taking a nap and making the most amusing hooting noises that continuously made Bungo and Belladonna giggle and poke at his belly. The owl did not wake despite their insistent poking, merely shifting around and burrowing his head down into his plumage.

The wagons did not stop for rest or to eat, the driver explaining that as Bree-hobbits they had become accustomed to going on less food than Shire-hobbits. Nonetheless, the driver also carried with him a tin box that he revealed was full of food. The hobbits in the other wagons also tossed bags of food back and forth occasionally while Belladonna rummaged around Jareth’s bag for the food packs she had made for all of them.

They stopped once past Brandywine Bridge to let the ponies rest and eat and because some of the children were complaining about having to go.

Afterwards they continued on to Bree, past forests and downs. The road was rough every now and then but they reached their destination after the sun went down. Their wagon separated from the rest once they reached Bree and Hildifons explained that they would be staying at the inn, the Prancing Pony.

Once there they thanked the hobbit profusely for giving them a ride, though he merely waved their thanks away. “Well, we’re family now, aren’t we?”

“You’re quite right!” Hildifons agreed.

They all waved as he left and Belladonna tiredly shifted Jareth in her arms. The owl was still sleeping soundly, despite owls being nocturnal. Gandalf easily reached over and plucked the owl from her tired arms and she sent him a grateful look.

“What did you mean by that? That we’re family now?” she questioned her brother.

Hildifons cocked an eyebrow at her incredulously. “Bella. That was the father of Hildigrim’s wife.”

“Oh!” Belladonna blushed heatedly as they all chuckled and shook their heads at her. “Oh, dear. I don’t even know his name … In fact, I don’t even know _her_ name.”

“I gathered,” Hildifons muttered with an eye-roll. “Her name is Adela Underhill, if you must know.”

“Underhill, truly? Don’t they-”

“They own a construction business,” Gandalf interrupted. “They are considered quite wealthy around these parts.”

“I bet that appeased Mother, at least,” grumbled Belladonna.

They entered the Prancing Pony and were immediately accosted by the loud ruckus of the inn’s occupants. There was a large mixed group of Men and Hobbits in the back of the room, drinking to their heart’s content. Gandalf led them towards the bar where a rounded man stood wiping cups clean.

“Ah, if it isn’t Gandalf himself!” the man greeted heartily and eyed the group of hobbits speculatively. “What’s this then?”

“Just passing through,” Gandalf explained, attempting to jostle the owl in his arms awake.

“Ah, an adventure, is it?” the man whispered, eyes alight with excitement. He observed the three hobbits, from the brown curly haired one who eyed the festivities in the back with suspicious eyes, to the taller dark haired one who hovered over him, and then the little hobbit lass who stared back at him with ill-concealed curiosity. “Tooks, by the look of it.” The hobbit lass lit up and nodded eagerly, introducing the group of hobbits by their first names only-- and therefore allowing the man to assume that Bungo was a Took as well. He gave Belladonna a smile and turned to eye the dozing owl in confusion. “Pet of yours?”

“Yes, my sister’s!” Hildifons interrupted before Belladonna could correct the assumption. The hobbit let out a whoosh of breath as his sister elbowed him sharply in the stomach from one side and Bungo from the other.

“Long as it don’t make a mess,” the man muttered. “How many rooms will you be wanting?”

“Three, I believe,” said Gandalf, looking to the hobbits who nodded at him.

Gandalf carried Jareth into the room Belladonna would be staying in and placed him upon one of the two beds. After spending a short amount of time discussing their plans for the following day, the group then retired to bed. Jareth had woken during the discussion and planned to fly out in owl form to take a look around the path they planned to take. He tucked Belladonna into bed and then flew out the window. She was soothed by the slight breeze that came through the open window and was deeply asleep by the time Jareth returned hours later.

The next morning the group woke refreshed and ready to continue their journey. Jareth made sure to stay in his owl form as the hobbits ate a hearty breakfast, not wishing to gather more unwanted attention than they already were. Meanwhile, Gandalf headed to the stables and bought three ponies and two horses after debating with himself whether Jareth would need one or not.

So it was on the back of their new horses and ponies that they left Bree. The road from Bree to Rivendell was a long one over sometimes rough, sometimes smooth terrain and Gandalf estimated they could reach their destination in a week, but more likely in two. It all depended on the weather, the horses, themselves, and if they ran across trouble along the way-- which they all dearly hoped they did not.

A day’s ride from Bree they came upon the Forsaken Inn-- which the hobbits refused to stay in merely on account of its name.

“Who would name their inn so?” wondered Bungo, bewildered.

“Perhaps someone who does not wish for people to stop by!” Hildifons assumed.

“Or maybe it’s only named so because the people have forsaken it?” interjected Jareth.

“Could it be haunted?” Belladonna asked excitedly.

“ _Tooks_ ,” grumbled Gandalf with a shake of his head. Bungo had stopped complaining that he was a “Baggins, thank you very much!” when Gandalf continuously pointed out that his behavior not that of a Baggins, that he’d been long corrupted by the Tooks, it seemed. “That inn is the Last Inn, I will have you know.”

“Then why did it say ‘ _forsaken’_?” Bungo demanded, still bewildered.

“If you had been paying attention, you would have seen that someone rudely crossed out the first word and inserted ‘forsaken’ above it,” Gandalf said rather coolly. “I assure you that the inn is still open and they would have welcomed us-”

“Of course they would have!” Hildifons cried. “We’d probably be their first customers in _years_!”

Gandalf rolled his eyes and dropped the subject. Instead they made camp past the inn, a short walk away, in fact. Gandalf huffed and grumbled at the inanity of it and wondered if perhaps traveling with these Tooks-- and a Baggins-- had not been such a good idea. Jareth just went with the flow and was often bewildered by anything Gandalf complained about; be it the times the hobbits demanded they needed to stop to eat to the silly games they played to pass the time-- often riddles, which Bungo appeared to be quite good at while Hildifons would come up with the most inane answers.

“What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?” Belladonna asked.

“Isengar!” Hildifons exclaimed with much enthusiasm. “No, wait. Isengar does eat …” He was completely unaware of the incredulous looks he was receiving from his companions.

“A river?” wondered Bungo, which of course was the correct answer. Though he always asked rather than stated, Bungo never gave an answer unless he was sure it was the correct one. Quite the opposite of Hildifons who would shout the first thing that came to mind.

Through rain showers, summer heat, and boredom the group rode on and although Gandalf had predicted they would arrive at Rivendell it two weeks, they only reached the Last Bridge in that time. Thanks mainly to the hobbits having to stop to eat six meals a day. Gandalf swore that he would never travel with young hobbits again, if he could help it. But the hobbits were of the impression he was only grumpy because he couldn’t guess any of their riddles’ answers.

When stopping for the day, the hobbits would collect firewood while Jareth in owl form would keep sharp eyes and ears on the lookout for any trouble.

Once they entered the Trollshaws, they knew they were not far off from Rivendell. Though only three weeks had passed since they’d left the Shire, the first leg of their journey was almost complete.

It was little over three weeks when Gandalf triumphantly led them down a small hidden passage through mountains. With Jareth grumpily bringing up the rear as he had been forbidden from flying ahead by the Wizard. The sun shone from the exit, like a light at the end of a tunnel and with an eager sprint in their steps the hobbits finally ventured out onto a cliffside.

“The Last Homely House,” said Gandalf with a smile as he observed his companions. Because despite his grumbling and complaining about their dallying and overeagerness, Gandalf was very happy to be accompanying them on their journey. Their expressions varied but were all positive, even Jareth-- whom Gandalf could not seem to impress no matter what he said or did-- looked awed by view.

“Rivendell,” whispered Belladonna, eyes wide and sparkling with such joy that it filled Gandalf with a sense of pride.

_He_ had led them to Imladris. _He_ had taken these little adventurous hobbits and helped them on their first journey through Middle-earth.

Gandalf pushed the feeling aside to be examined later. For now, he had some hobbits and a wizard to introduce to elves.


	8. The Magic of Hobbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Bilbo, you finally decided to show up.  
> In the end I decided to cut the backstory on Jareth/Belladonna short. There's various mentions of wars and battles that Bilbo fought in which will be explained more little by little. Bilbo's kind of kick-ass. :X

"' _Last one there is a rotten egg!' cried Belladonna as she took off running down the path. It was very sneaky of her to start running before issuing her challenge. Bungo and Hildifons agreed that it was quite sneaky and complained that she'd cheated even as they ran after her. Jareth was a very clever wizard and transformed into an owl before pursuing the running hobbit lass. She yelled at him that he was cheating-_ "

"You do know I've heard this story about a million times and know it by heart now?" interrupted Bilbo wonderingly. "Also, your version of the events are far different from what I was told. For one thing, Mother spent _two_ months in Eatherest and a _year_ passed in Middle-earth. Not four months."

"A year?" Gandalf exclaimed, shocked. "I was sure Gerontius said four months."

"Grandfather probably said 'for months'," Bilbo explained. "Either you misheard him or you misunderstood him or more likely, both."

Gandalf coughed as he breathed in wrong, taking the pipe from his mouth and hitting himself on the chest. Once he was sure the Wizard was all right and wouldn't suddenly die on him, Bilbo continued.

"For another thing, the first time Uncle Rowan visited Goblin Kingdom in search of Mother, he accidentally destroyed Goblin City as he was far too large in his dragon form. It was one of the reasons he was left in charge of Goblin Kingdom, as he was still trying to help the goblins reconstruct the city," Bilbo took a moment to take several puffs from his own pipe before carrying on. "Also, Aunt Rhianu never told Mother about me or made any mentions of my birth. I'm quite sure that part of the story was you exaggerating her power as she's not all-knowing. Yet another thing is that Mother said it took far longer for all of you to reach Rivendell, because Uncle Hildifons somehow injured his foot and the group had to slow down for him.

"Oh, and you exaggerated when you explained the incident with Last Inn. I was told that you actually settled down very far away from the inn but I'm sure you only exaggerated because it's clear you were quite exasperated by your traveling companions."

Gandalf scoffed. "I'm quite exasperated with you at this moment, Bilbo. Now will you please allow me to continue with the story I was telling? As I was saying-"

"But you haven't even told me why you're visiting," Bilbo interrupted again, expression one of extreme confusion. "You just started regaling me with tales of my parents' adventures."

"You know, I've quite forgotten why it is I'm here," Gandalf realized.

"Well, in that case, I do have other things to do," Bilbo revealed, putting his pipe out and standing. "I have some errands to run but I'll be right quick, so you can stay if you wish. Barnaby!"

Gandalf chuckled as the ram – a tiny thing at the moment, with a black face and white wool – immediately ran out from underneath some flower bushes, leaving a trail of petals in his wake. Bilbo groaned and stooped to clean his companion of leaves and petals, muttering to himself about maybe just sheering the ram. Barnaby disagreed and bleated continuously until Bilbo was done cleaning him.

"Then stop always making a mess of yourself!" Bilbo scolded. "You're not a baby anymore! What's so amusing about rolling around underneath the bushes?"

The two companions made their way down the road, waving back to Gandalf, who waved to them jovially in return. As Bilbo and Barnaby were climbing up a hill, Gandalf suddenly recalled his reason for visiting Bag End in the first place.

"Bilbo!" the Wizard cried and the hobbit must have heard him because he turned to look back at him. "I'll be back tomorrow night with company!" Bilbo nodded in the distance and then vanished over the hill with his pet ram. Glad to be done with his task, Gandalf merrily went on his own way, heading back to Bree to inform the Company of Thorin Oakenshield that he'd found their Burglar at last.

The following night found Thorin Oakenshield alone and lost, wandering about the Shire looking for a place called "Bag End". He did not know for how long he'd been wandering around. All he was aware of was that the sun was shining one moment and the next night had fallen. The strange folk who lived in the Shire – Hobbits, as they were called – would glare at him suspiciously as he passed by their homes and they wouldn't answer him when he ventured closer to ask for directions, choosing instead to quickly disappear into their houses. They would stare at him from their little windows as though expecting him to come after them waving his sword about like a lunatic.

He was also quite sure he'd passed the same sign three times already.

"Err, excuse me?" came a timid voice from behind him.

Thorin startled so badly he almost tripped over his own feet as he quickly turned about, sword half-drawn before realizing he'd been approached by a young hobbit lad, who was staring at him with wide, impossibly blue eyes. They stared at each other for half a minute before Thorin remembered to sheathe his sword again, looking apologetic. The hobbit smiled at him tentatively and Thorin found himself admiring how handsome the lad was. "Are you looking for something?"

Before Thorin could answer, he noticed two things at once. One, there was a tiny sheep . . . thing . . . accompanying the hobbit and two, the hobbit was carrying a large basket filled with fruits and jars. His stomach decided to make itself known then, with a loud growl that brought heat to Thorin's face and a wide-eyed look from both hobbit and sheep.

"Great dragons!" the hobbit murmured to himself, shocking Thorin yet again, and then he held the basket out towards the dwarf without a second thought. "Are you hungry? Silly question, of course you are!" He looked down at his baskets with brows furrowed. "I have only fruits in here but you may have some if you like."

Thorin could have hugged the hobbit but quickly calmed himself. "Thank you," he said demurely instead, while keeping that he did not appear _too_ grateful. He certainly did not wish to scare away the only hobbit to try and help him.

The hobbit beamed at him happily and Thorin almost took a step back; this was a hobbit who could seriously blind someone by simply smiling at them. Thorin cleared his throat awkwardly and reached for one of the juicy red apples.

"Are you lost?" the hobbit asked. "Do you need help finding your way? I know how confusing the roads in the Shire can be."

"I am to meet someone at Bag End," Thorin replied.

The hobbit was surprised. "Bag End, you say? Well, I'm headed that way." He gestured with a nod in the direction he was facing and began walking, the sheep followed closely behind, almost bouncing along. The hobbit stopped at a crossroads and gazed, perplexed, at the sign Thorin had passed countless times. "I wonder what happened to the sign. It's supposed to say Bagshot Row there. No wonder you were lost."

"Thank you, you are very kind," Thorin said. "No one else would help me and I've been wandering for a while."

"Yes, Hobbits tend to be very suspicious of outsiders," the hobbit agreed, continuing his march down the road with one last confused glance at the sign. "They're good people, just paranoid, I think. Rather strange, isn't it?"

"I would say that _you_ are strange, as well, for a Hobbit," Thorin said, only half-joking.

The hobbit laughed and Thorin was hard-pressed to keep himself from staring at him. His laugh was like bells ringing and something about him called attention. From his curly brown hair, clear blue eyes, to his button nose.

"You and everyone else," the hobbit said with alacrity. He offered the basket to Thorin again and a separate bag he was carrying for Thorin to throw away the apple pit.

"Isn't it a little late to be out shopping, though?"

"Oh, I wasn't shopping. I went out of town on a short trip to visit a friend, I am only returning now as my Uncle said he'd be coming to visit tonight."

"Out of town? A Hobbit?" Thorin questioned, surprised. He was deftly peeling an orange and throwing the peels into the bag the hobbit held as they reached the end of the road. The house at the end of the road, where a gathering of dwarves awaited in the front lawn, was obviously "Bag End". Thorin could clearly recognize Gandalf even from such a distance, standing taller than the dwarves in his Company by several feet and with a pointed hat on his head. The Wizard was the first to catch sight of them, as well, and looked most surprised to see them.

"Bilbo Baggins! Where have you been, boy?" Gandalf demanded huffily. "I told you I was coming over today with company!"

The newly-dubbed "Bilbo Baggins" snorted. "You clearly said you were coming over _tonight_ with company. I heard you! Therefore, I am most certainly _not_ late!"

Gandalf tried to find something to say but then appeared to realize he had lost and huffed. "You're not late."

"Thank you!" Bilbo said magnanimously. "I guess this is the company you were talking about. Guess I'd better let all of you into my home before the neighbors call the Watch on us."

"That would be for the best," agreed Gandalf.

The hobbit walked past the group of curious dwarves and waved his hand over the round green door of his home. To their confusion, the hobbit repeated the gesture several times, growing agitated with each passing second.

"What happened to my door?" Bilbo demanded finally. " _Why isn't it opening_?"

Gandalf tried to appear innocent, "I was merely curious about the enchantment on the door, it wasn't one I'd seen before."

"You broke my door," Bilbo concluded, glaring at the Wizard. "I can't believe you broke my door!" He covered his face with his hands and took several deep breaths. "I guess I'll have to get in through the window."

"The window, Bilbo?" Gandalf wondered, worried.

"Barnaby, expand!" Bilbo said. To the great shock of everyone watching – except Gandalf, who was quite accustomed to seeing such things –, the sheep immediately stood at attention and began to grow until he was the size of a pony. The hobbit then climbed atop it and through one of the windows. The sheep quickly tried to follow after, its large body getting stuck between the frames. "Barnaby, you great idiot, shrink!"

So the sheep did, until it was no bigger than a butterfly and just like a butterfly, it floated up in the air and entered the house through the open window.

"So that is the hobbit?" Thorin wondered.

"Yes, that's Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf replied with a sigh.

"Interesting character," was all the dwarf said.

The little round green door opened then and Bilbo stood before them, his sheep thing quite comfortably settled atop his head. The hobbit took several deep breaths before smiling widely at them, "Welcome to Bag End! Please come inside!" The hobbit moved to the side as the dwarves entered the abode one by one. "You may hang your coats on the hooks to your right. Don't worry about your boots as the floors are enchanted to never be dirty."

"Enchanted?" one of the dwarves echoed.

Bilbo was not listening, however, and vanished down a hallway. "I imagine you are all hungry. Let me check the pantry to see if I have enough food. Dwarves don't eat as much as Hobbits, right?"

"Dwarves eat three meals a day, Bilbo," Gandalf called as he entered the house last, closing the door behind him. "These meals are rather large but they do not eat as much as a hobbit, I should say. I do not believe there is a race on Middle-earth that eats as much as Hobbits."

Thorin followed after Bilbo, carrying the basket of fruits the hobbit had shoved at him before breaking into his own home.

"I'd think giants would eat more than hobbits, given their size," Bilbo was mumbling to himself as he looked about what was supposedly his pantry. Thorin gaped as he came up behind the hobbit, looking around the large space in awe. There was something terribly odd about the pantry, the dwarf noted, but he could not put his finger on what it was. Aside that it appeared to be bursting with food. "Will this be enough? I haven't had time to go shopping . . ."

"This is more than enough, Master Baggins," Thorin said. Surely it was not possible for such a small space to hold so much food.

"You may call me Bilbo, if you wish," said Bilbo. He took the basket from the dwarf and placed it on one of the pantry shelves without further ado. "I must tell you that I'm a horrible cook, so you will all have to cook yourselves supper. Is that too much trouble?"

"Not at all, I gather my Company will have a riot in your pantry," Thorin replied humorlessly. "Are you quite certain we can eat your food?"

"Very certain, eat it all," Bilbo smiled benignly.

Thorin eyed him speculatively for a moment before grinning. "You have more, don't you?"

Bilbo smiled at him widely. "Perhaps." He subtly eyed the back of the pantry where there was what appeared to be a solid wood wall. His enchanted private pantry, which the dwarves could not see for it was disillusioned, was full of preserved boxed meals that were prepared for him by the neighbors. The elder Hobbits of the Shire had quickly learned that Bilbo was quite hopeless when it came to keeping himself fed and had banded together to provide him with delicious homemade meals.

He still kept the public pantry well stocked in case someone stopped by for a visit, but he was quite selfish with his packed meals. After all, they were quite delicious.

The dwarves gave him many hearty thanks as they began carrying food out of the pantry. In the meantime, Bilbo made himself useful by showing the younger ones where he kept all his dishes and silverware. He warned them against using his Mother's china, as those dishes were old and passed down through the generations.

"You pass down _dishes_ to your children?" a gruff looking dwarf with tattoos on his forehead asked disbelievingly.

"Actually, my Grandmother passed them down to my Mother as the eldest daughter, but my parents never had any children aside from me," Bilbo shrugged. "I actually planned to gift them to one of my cousins who plans to marry soon." He stared briefly at the dwarf, who cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly. "Sorry, but . . . I don't know your name."

"Ah, how remiss of us!" Gandalf exclaimed, overhearing. "You haven't been properly introduced."

The tattooed dwarf bowed at the waist and spread his arms out. "Dwalin, at your service."

"Dwalin," Bilbo echoed and squinted at him. Before Dwalin could demand to know why the hobbit was staring at him so, the other dwarves approached Bilbo to introduce themselves as well. The hobbit gazed at each of them speculatively in turn and they gathered that he was trying to connect their names with their faces. They allowed him that, at least, although they figured he would still get their names wrong as other races often did.

"Balin, at your service," introduced the elderly dwarf who sat at the dining room table at Thorin's side.

"And this is Thorin, the leader of our Company," Gandalf said when Thorin made no move to introduce himself.

Bilbo's eyebrows rose to his hairline, "Thorin must be a popular name among dwarves then?"

"Pardon me?" said dwarf demanded.

"It's nothing, just that I've met someone named Thorin before," Bilbo laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You've met dwarves before?" Balin asked, intrigued.

"Indeed, I have," Bilbo and he took the offered seat next to Thorin, at the head of the table. He ignored the speculative looks aimed his way as he observed the dwarves moving between the pantry and the kitchen. His eyes were keen on them as they worked to prepare themselves a meal with all of Bilbo's food. Their chatter, though often garbled and loud, he found quite interesting. Mostly they told each other of everything they had been up to since last they met.

Bilbo was honestly amazed at the efficiency of the dwarves. The ease with which they moved around the kitchen was foreign to him. He had never in his life had to cook a meal for himself and though he often tried to learn, it was really quite hopeless.

"You might learn something from these dwarves, Bilbo," Gandalf said, noticing where the hobbit's full attention lay. "Perhaps how to cook, though we can't expect miracles."

Bilbo pouted but did not divert his attention from the dwarves. He was perplexed, especially by the youngest dwarf; a freckled, red headed lad who wore knitted gloves and a jumper.

Finally, he could not deal with the mystery and garnered Ori's attention. The young dwarf's brother, Dori, was suspicious of Bilbo and hovered over Ori's shoulder like a shadow. "Where's your book?"

Ori was visibly startled but so were the other dwarves who were nearby. Even so, the young dwarf reached into his knapsack and withdrew a large book from within. He nervously handed the book to Bilbo, who was confused as he propped it open.

"No, I mean your spell book," Bilbo explained.

"Bilbo, Master Ori is not a Loremaster," Gandalf intervened as Ori and his brother sputtered uselessly.

"What is a Loremaster?" Thorin asked.

"But he's silver, how is he not a Loremaster?" Bilbo questioned, bewildered.

"Silver? Really?" Gandalf murmured, staring at Ori intently. "Bilbo, Master Ori is the scribe of the group."

"Scribe?" Bilbo echoed, brows furrowed in further contemplation. "So he's their Chronicler?"

Gandalf rubbed his forehead and decided to simply agree for the sake of his sanity. "Something like that."

"What do you mean he's _silver_?" Nori demanded before the hobbit's attention could be diverted once again.

Bilbo sat back in his chair and thought of how to answer the question. He waited patiently as the table quickly filled with platters of food that steamed and smelled absolutely delicious. The dwarves liked their meat, Bilbo noted, as most of the platters contained different meats; chicken, deer, fish. There were bowls of steamed vegetables and diced fruits, though not as many as one would find at a Hobbit gathering.

In fact, once the plates and platters and bowls stopped coming, Bilbo concluded that a group of thirteen dwarves did not eat half as much as a group of thirteen hobbits. He puzzled over this as many of the dwarves were rather large, especially around the belly.

Once the dwarves began finding chairs around the table, Bilbo settled himself comfortably in his chair and answered Nori's question. "Mister Ori is silver and what I meant by that is that he is exceptionally gifted. Silver colored people are very rare in this world, they have sensitivity, intuitiveness, and practicality. Mister Ori has the ability to relate to many people because he is versatile and adaptable and good at whatever he sets his mind to. His high intelligence helps his decision making. He is also _predominantly_ silver, which means he is often viewed as highly attractive and has many admirers."

A long silence settled at the table as the dwarves stared at him in disbelief.

"Good guess," Fili said finally.

"Mister Kili and his brother, Mister Fili, are both blue though Mister Kili's is the darker of the two," Bilbo continued, eyes narrowed in challenge. "Blue signifies strong personality and is quite rare for a person to be entirely blue, as Mister Kili. They are both quite social and charismatic and would make excellent politicians. Mister Thorin shares this blue with his _nephews_ though his is a royal blue instead, meaning that he is good at motivating and inspiring others."

"Did you hear that, Fili?" Kili asked, nudging his disbelieving brother with his elbow. "I have a strong personality."

Fili snorted, "If that's what you want to call it."

The dwarves laughed, a little strained. Bofur managed to catch Bilbo's attention and pointed at himself insistently, a gleam of challenge shining in his own eyes.

"Mister Bofur and his cousin Mister Bifur are both yellow," said Bilbo, taking up the challenge with a grin. "Yellow signifies logic and intelligence. People who are yellow tend to work too hard and easily become workaholics, putting their work above all else." Bombur choked on whatever he was eating and began laughing, nodding, and pointing at his relatives, who both looked stunned. "They are also quite happy with and confident of themselves and do not suffer loneliness. They are also very social and brilliant speakers and are great at inventing things." Bilbo plowed on, even as Bofur guffawed and almost fell off his chair. "Mister Bombur is a pale green; also hardworking and creative, but he uses these skills differently. He chooses instead to focus on gardening and cooking. He has a fine eye for beautiful things and likes security, stability, and balance in his life."

"That's amazing," Kili breathed, staring at the hobbit with large eyes filled with wonder.

"How are you doing that?" Ori wondered, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Bilbo held up a finger. "I'm not done." The dwarves listened attentively even as they continued to eat and no one but Gandalf noticed that Bilbo was on his third serving of food. "Mister Dori and Mister Nori are both purple. They are attuned to the emotions and moods of others and very sensitive. Mister Nori has a predominant amount of purple, which means he is often mysterious and secretive. They both love to learn, are philosophical, and also intuitive. They do not have many friends, but the friends they do have are held close and respected, admired, and loved."

Bilbo paused a moment to take a drink of water while Nori was being teased for being "mysterious". He also took the time to squint at Oin with some confusion.

"Um, Mister Oin is a delicate brown," Bilbo said. "That means he is confused and has lack of confidence in the subject being addressed. He's not dark brown, more of a fading brown, his true color should surface once his confusion passes." Gloin gently ribbed his brother, who did indeed look confused. "Mister Gloin, however, is a clear white. White signifies peace, contentment, love. You are very happy with your life."

Gloin agreed that he was indeed quite happy with his life and would have begun regaling them with tales of just how happy he was and why if not for Bilbo suddenly laughing.

The hobbit sheepishly looked towards Gandalf, though he had been staring at Balin just a second before. "Mister Balin is red."

"Oh, my," Gandalf whispered, staring at Balin with new eyes.

Bilbo turned his head to gaze at Balin with wide-eyed wonder. "Red signifies enthusiasm and energy." The dwarves, too, turned to stare at Balin dubiously. "You are forever on the lookout for new adventures and are adventurous with many things; food, journeys," here he coughed and blushed, "lovers."

Dwalin was unable to contain his laughter and the others soon followed. Even Thorin could not stop the laughter that bubbled up inside him at the expressions on both Balin's and Bilbo's faces.

Bilbo was quite red but continued, "Mister Balin is quick to anger and easily loses his temper. He is strong in body and mind and does not succumb to illness easily. He is direct, to the point, and forthright, and is not afraid of making his views heard. I should mention that Mister Balin is a very pale red. So while he may have been quite adventurous at one time in his life, he is much calmer now."

"Oh, sweet Mahal," Dwalin said in between laughs. "You got him in one, Master Baggins. I suppose I'm the last one now?"

" _Bilbo_ ," Bilbo corrected passingly. "Mister Dwalin, you are a very dark green. You are loyal and practical. You do not suffer fools gladly and choose your friends very carefully. Like Mister Bombur, who is a pale green, you like stability, security, and balance in your life. Any plans you make are well thought out and you seldom make rash mistakes."

"That was absolutely _amazing_!" recapitulated Kili and everyone sounded their agreement.

"Thank you!" Bilbo laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck again. "Did I get everyone's names right?"

Balin coughed, his face pink. "Yes, laddie, you got everyone's names correct and you were spot on about the rest, as well. That was simply marvelous!"

"Thank you!" Bilbo smiled happily. "Dwarves are very nice!"

Gandalf chuckled. "When they wish to be."

A rather mischievous grin spread across Bilbo's face. "I didn't tell them your color."

"It's not that interesting," said Gandalf dryly.

"We want to know!" argued Kili.

"Do tell us!" Fili agreed.

"Well," Bilbo drawled, amused as Gandalf looked pained. "Uncle Gandalf is a very predominant orange color. He is gregarious, generous, and social. He loves to be in the company of others and though he doesn't mind being the center of attention, he is also quite happy being a face in the crowd as well. He is kindhearted, good, and honest, and often quite charming. He has the ability to make others feel at ease in his company." Bilbo scratched his head and frowned thoughtfully. "Of course, he is also hot headed and quick to lose his temper. It's a good thing he is also quick to forgive and forget if sincere apology is offered and he does not hold grudges. He is also impatient and tends to rush into things too quickly, acting immediately and only considering the consequences later. So, basically, he is well rounded."

"Thank you, Bilbo," said Gandalf in a droning voice. "If only I weren't so hot headed."

Bilbo eyed him consideringly before smiling charmingly. "Well, we can't expect miracles, can we?"

The dwarves roared with laughter while Gandalf sputtered, shocked at having his own words thrown back at him. Barnaby, who had made a nest for himself atop Bilbo's head, chose that moment to fall right off and land on the table with a bleat. The creature quickly bounced to its feet and shook its body, then it noticed the plates of food and began bleating at Bilbo impatiently.

"All right, all right, you're so dramatic!" Bilbo exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and standing. "It's not like I'm _starving_ you!"

Bofur, who was closest in his seat beside Gandalf, reached out towards the sheep and poked at it. The sheep turned its beady little eyes on him and in one fell swoop, chomped down upon the offending finger.

"Ouch!" Bofur cried, holding his finger. "It bit me!"

"Well, what do you expect?" Bilbo demanded as he returned from the kitchen with a plate of lettuce. "You can't go poking at him and expect him to like it!"

The sheep immediately dove at the plate, somehow finishing half the plate in only a matter of seconds.

"I haven't introduced him to you yet, have I? This is Barnaby, my pet ram. He's quite a handsome fellow, isn't he?"

"A ram? Are you sure?" Bofur wondered, still holding his reddening finger.

"I've never seen one so small," said Dwalin, then with confusion, "or so big."

"Is he a _magic_ ram?" Kili asked.

"I suppose he is. He was created by one of my uncles and gifted to me the day I was born," Bilbo replied.

" _Always by your side he'll be_ ," said Gandalf, recalling the words spoken by Rowan on the day of Bilbo's birth. " _A true companion; large as house or small as bee._ "

"Uncle Rowan is quite clever," Bilbo said honestly. "If you're all done eating, perhaps you'd like to adjourn to the parlor? It's quite cozy in there."

"There's probably not enough seating there," Thorin argued.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. You can just leave the dishes at the table, they'll take care of themselves."

The dwarves glanced at each other, wondering what the hobbit meant. They had their answer when not five seconds later the dishes began floating up from the table. Several of the dwarves cried out in shock at the dishes and a few more when a broom appeared and began sweeping up whatever food had fallen on the floor.

"If you don't get out of the dining room, the broom will get very angry," Bilbo called to them in a sing-song voice, amused.

After Fili and Kili got whopped by the broom for standing in its way, the dwarves decided it would be a good idea to do as Bilbo said.

In the parlor, Bilbo snapped his fingers and to the immense awe of those watching there were suddenly enough armchairs for each of them, the fireplace sprung to life, and the candles around the room were lighted.

"Oh, he _definitely_ has to come with us!" Kili hissed to Thorin.

Thorin was of like mind and moved to sit at one of the armchairs, finding that it quickly accommodated to his form and was quite comfortable.

Soon everyone was seated in their own armchair, all in a circle and facing the middle.

"Tell me, Master Baggins- _Bilbo_ ," Thorin quickly corrected himself when the hobbit made to interrupt. "Have you done much fighting?" Because what good was making armchairs appear out of thin air and ordering dishes to wash themselves out in the wilderness?

"I've done my share of Orc-hunting, if that's what you mean," Bilbo replied. There was no possible way he was telling the dwarves about the eight years he spent in Eatherest, fighting at the battlefront of a great war. With a glare at Gandalf, he made sure the Wizard knew _he_ wasn't to tell them either.

"Ax or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"

"I'm pretty decent with a sword but I've never used an ax. It might shock you to know what such things are not often made in my size."

"Bilbo, here, is a skilled archer," Gandalf intervened, pride shining on his face. "He could give Kili a run for his gold."

"Oh, are you a bowman, too?" Bilbo asked Kili. "You must be quite good, if Uncle Gandalf says."

Kili puffed his chest proudly. "I'm as good as any elf!"

Fili nudged him and quipped, "Better."

"Better than any elf!" Kili corrected and the dwarves all agreed with a shout. Bilbo hardly looked convinced, though. "You don't believe me?"

Bilbo blinked at him in confusion. "Have you proven yourself against an elf then?"

Kili stuttered. "Well-I-" He glanced sideways at his brother, who looked just as stunned as he, and then at everyone, helplessly. Finally, Kili merely sniffed delicately, glaring at Bilbo grumpily. "Well, I'd beat an elf in any contest."

"If you say so," Bilbo mused, gazing at the young dwarf wonderingly. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"He just doesn't understand that in order to impress someone, you have to _show_ them you're good at something, not boast about it," Thorin said.

"I wasn't boasting," Kili grumbled, blushing hotly.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him and then at Thorin, who frowned back at him.

"Back to the matter at hand," Gandalf said. "The reason for our arrival here at Bag End. From what you've no doubt already gathered Bilbo, these dwarves are in need of your help."

"Yes, I gathered that," Bilbo scoffed.

"They are on a quest, to reclaim their home from a dragon. But they need a burglar before their Company is complete and I promised I would find them one."

"So you found me? How kind of you. I'll remind you that I've never stolen anything before in my life."

"Perhaps not, but you have all the necessary requirements of a burglar."

Bilbo pushed himself to his feet, smiling crookedly. "You mean, this?" There were no magic words, no movement of his hand, one moment he was standing there and next he had vanished.

It took a moment for the dwarves to come to their senses, around the time Kili suddenly let out a shriek and jumped out of his seat. Bilbo's laughter floated around the room and he reappeared leaning against Kili's armchair.

"The look on your face!" Bilbo laughed, pointing at Kili.

"Very funny," the dwarf grumbled, pouting petulantly.

"Balin," Thorin said and the seriousness of his tone drew everyone's attention. The dwarf was gazing at Bilbo with a calculating gleam in his eyes, "Give him the contract."

"Wait, there's a contract?" Bilbo scratched the back of his head.


	9. The Magical Ram That Flew

The Contract, Bilbo found out, was several pieces of parchment stitched together in a strange and seemingly random manner. There were several flaps stitched to the sides, as well, with added information. While the presentation of the Contract was unusual, Bilbo found its contents to be even more so.

He found it very humorous that the Contract made absolutely no sense whatsoever and though he did not wish to hurt Balin's feelings – the dwarf had appeared quite proud as he presented it –, that was not to say he would not point out any and every mistake he found in the print.

"Basically, this says that Mister Thorin has the right to alter anything about the quest, without consideration to his Company," said Bilbo. "Yet it states here that the quest shall proceed 'with due care and consideration'. You know, most of this contract reads as though it were written by more than one person . . ." He paused to peer at Balin closely. "Were you drunk?"

As Balin gaped at him uncomprehendingly, the other dwarves began to laugh, more so when Gandalf whopped Bilbo over the head with his staff.

"What was that for?" Bilbo cried, dropping the Contract to hold the back of his head with both hands.

"Where are your manners? Is that the kind of thing you ask of your guest?"

"Yes!" Bilbo said, earnestly but with much deliberation. "If they ask me to sign a contract that has no common sense!"

Gandalf whopped him again, hoping to knock some sense into him. "Please stop showing your Took side."

"That's the only side I _have_!" Bilbo whined. He nimbly ducked out of Gandalf's reach when the Wizard made to hit him yet again, hiding himself behind Bombur, who was the biggest of the dwarves and thus made for good cover. "You're not letting me finish reading it."

"Then do get on with it!" Barnaby, who did not appreciate the Wizard trying to injure his owner, made his disapproval known by attaching his mouth and teeth to Gandalf's staff and refusing to let go. "Barnabas Baggins, kindly let go of my staff!"

"'Remedies shall similarly not be sought for any unlooked-for misfortune befalling Burglar's home during his absence'," Bilbo read out loud while Gandalf battled with his ram; to everyone's amusement, the ram was winning. "Whoever wrote this is not very nice. What if that dreadful Bracegirdle girl who wants to marry Otho decides to steal my silverware? I shall need to enchant my house to disallow trespassers. Also, I must inform the Watch that I am leaving again."

"That means you've decided to come with us?" Kili asked, pleased.

"I'm not finished reading yet," Bilbo pointed out. "Here it says that 'during the course of his employment with the Company' yet further down it clearly states that the Burglar is not in the employment of the Company. Honestly, Mister Balin, were you drunk?" He really did feel sorry for Mister Balin, who was quite red in the face and the subject of much muffled laughter from his companions. "I'm sorry, but I simply cannot sign this. The rest of the contract was obviously written to stand against me as I don't speak the Dwarven Tongue and according to this," he held the parchment out accusingly, "that means I cannot defend myself against anything you might accuse me of."

"The contract can be amended," said Thorin.

Bilbo dubiously pulled at one of the stitched-on flaps. "If you mean like this, I'm not sure I want it to be amended. Anyway, down here it says 'Burglar may not modify or change this Contract in any way except by a writing signed and agreed by both Parties hereto'. This really sounds like a lot of nonsense to me and too much trouble to go through just to go on some adventure. _So_ . . ." He quickly folded up the parchments and handed it back to Balin with a smile. "There's your contract. I need some fresh air."

He was out of the room and walked down the hallway, only hearing his Uncle's voice from a distance, "Is that really what the contract says?"

He did not hear the dwarves' response to the question as he left the house through the back door, holding it open long enough for Barnaby to pass through. He was comforted, as he climbed the hill that was Bag End, by the light of the moon that shone upon him.

His Mother always spoke of how on the night he'd been born, the three moons of Eatherest had been in alignment; biggest in back and smallest in front, so that together they looked like circles within circles.

" _It's the reason your magic is more powerful when the moon shines upon you,"_ she'd said.

Although, according to his Uncle Bungo, that was not the reason at all.

" _On the night of your birth,"_ he'd said, _"your Father collected moonlight and then he put it within you."_

But that did not make sense either. How would you collect moonlight and put it within someone? His Mother had said that was merely a romanticized version of the events. He'd never found out the truth of what had transpired on the night of his birth, as they had both died without telling him, and asking his Father was like pulling teeth.

Nevertheless, he felt very much at peace as he gazed at the moon. He was being quite silly, he knew, but he did not care who heard him as he began to sing softly to himself:

_The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,_  
_and the cat began to wail;_  
_A dish and a spoon on the table danced,_  
_The cow in the garden madly pranced,_  
_and the little dog chased his tail._

"So you are singer as well, I hear," Thorin said, startling Bilbo. He appeared over the hill of Bag End and made himself comfortable on the grass at Bilbo's side.

"I'm not very good," argued Bilbo modestly, pushing himself into a sitting position.

"What was that song you were singing? Sounded downright silly."

Bilbo laughed softly, "My thanks! It's just a song I wrote when I was young."

"You write songs, as well? Seems you are full of surprises, Master Baggins. Pardon me, _Bilbo_."

"Oh, I'm not surprising at all. I gather you did not come out here to speak of my many abilities, though."

"I did not. The Wizard seems to think I can change your mind, as he believes he, himself, would be unable to do so."

"Eh, I stopped listening to Uncle Gandalf when I was sixteen. That was the year Father turned him into a toad. It was hard taking him seriously after that."

"I see," Thorin said slowly, though clearly he did not. Still, he was interested in hearing the story as it sounded humorous. But that was not what he had wished to speak to the hobbit about, so he pushed the thought from his mind.

"It's likely he sent you because I said you are royal blue."

"I do not understand what you mean."

"Royal blue; you are good at motivating and inspiring others. I did not mention that you are also of royal descent, possibly the heir to a throne. You have strength of character, which you came to acquire through much hardship. You have courage and you are a great leader for your people. You have also learned the value of humility and modesty. Yet for all your strengths, you are unforgiving, unmerciful, and you reject new ideas depending on where they originated. This is all intensified by your inherit mistrust of other races."

Thorin opened his mouth to say something but unable to think of anything to say that would not sound rude or, as the hobbit said, unforgiving, he closed it again. He settled for simply staring at Bilbo in disbelief, incapable of comprehending how the hobbit could possibly know all that from a color.

Bilbo smiled at him ashamedly. "I'm sorry, I am often told I'm overbearing with my people knowledge."

"Perhaps a little," Thorin admitted with great reluctance; he did not want to be dishonest. "I think it's an amazing skill if used correctly. Do you always blurt out everything without someone asking first?"

"Yes?"

"Well, that's a problem. Most people do like being told good things about themselves, what they don't like is hearing all the bad things, as well."

"That makes sense. I don't like hearing people saying bad things about me, either," Bilbo revealed, thoughtful. "It makes me sad."

The hobbit was unexpectedly naïve, Thorin realized. He was kind, as he had shown by helping him find his way, and he was gracious, as he had shared his food with Thorin.

"Well, sometimes it makes me angry," admitted Bilbo sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling shyly. "But I've learned that anger only makes things explode."

Thorin blinked, bewildered. " _Explode?_ "

"Not so much in the last ten years or so," reassured Bilbo. "But in the past, quite often."

 _That's very reassuring_ , Thorin thought somewhat hysterically. He tried to think of how to change the subject and remembered what he'd originally intended to speak with the hobbit about, "I actually came out here to speak with you of our quest, we did not have time to discuss it before you left. Also, as I said before, the contract can be rewritten if so required. You must understand, we were distrustful of the one the Wizard had chosen to join us. After all, Gandalf had promised us a most competent Burglar for our journey. We only managed to write up that contract last night and we were quite proud of it."

"Oh! So that's why it read like it was written by multiple persons!" Bilbo exclaimed with sudden clarity. Then he grimaced as he recalled his words to poor Balin, "I should apologize to Mister Balin."

"There's no need, you were right on the mark with that one. Balin was quite drunk when we wrote it."

Bilbo gazed at him in disbelief, covering his mouth to smother the laughter that bubbled up inside him. He fell over, right on top of Barnaby, who was reclining comfortably at his side. The ram was accustomed to such antics from his owner and was not bothered in the least, turning his head only briefly to lick at Bilbo's face before settling down again.

Once Bilbo got a hold of himself, Thorin continued, feeling much lighter than before, "The Wizard proclaimed that he would be taking on the matter of rewriting the contract, so that it will make sense to you. As I said, I wanted to speak to you of our quest . . . We are headed to Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, with plans to reclaim it from the dragon who made it his home."

"A dragon!" Bilbo exclaimed and his excitement shocked Thorin into silence. There was a bright gleam in the hobbit's eyes as he gazed up at Thorin, an almost maniacal look about him. "I have never seen a dragon of Middle-earth before. You know, dragons are greatly misunderstood. Many fear them because of their might and also because many dragons fought for the dark forces during wars of the past. But quite a few dragons did not join in those wars, either, yet they were overlooked and forever branded as terrible beasts."

"Smaug . . . is a terrible beast and I will _not_ think otherwise," Thorin growled.

"He is a dragon and he would not have attacked your city if he had not a very important reason to! The only thing that matters to a dragon is the treasure they hoard. A dragon without a hoard is not a dragon at all!" Bilbo knew he'd hit the nail on the head when Thorin's eyes shuttered at the word "treasure". "Perhaps if you tried speaking with him, you might be able to come to some sort of agreement."

"Perhaps I was wrong to think you should come along on our journey," Thorin scoffed, pushing himself to his feet with a suddenness that startled Bilbo. He was not half way down the hill when he heard Bilbo's whispered words.

"Rejects new ideas," Bilbo whispered to Barnaby, who agreed with a bleat.

Thorin rubbed his forehead and rolled his eyes. The hobbit would be the death of him. He turned and headed back towards the two, who were greatly startled once more when he plopped down beside them again.

"Hallo!" said Bilbo, smiling uncertainly.

Thorin arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly believe Smaug would listen to us? He would roast us before we could get a word in."

"Your glass is half-empty, isn't it?" Bilbo questioned with an exasperated sigh.

"My glass . . . ?" Thorin echoed. "I am not holding a glass."

Bilbo snorted with laughter again and Thorin shook his head, incredulous. The hobbit, he thought, was quite mad.

"I like you," Bilbo announced and did not notice the sudden redness of Thorin's cheeks at his words. "You're charming, dashing, and very heroic. But I think you and your merry band of dwarves are all quite mad."

Thorin blinked, "I was just thinking the same about you."

"You think I'm charming, dashing, and very heroic?" Bilbo asked, pleased.

"No, I think you're quite mad," Thorin said, then laughed as the hobbit pouted. "I'm sorry. I can only claim to think of you as charming. You have not been very dashing, nor have you been very heroic."

"You think I'm charming?" Bilbo asked again, delighted. He nodded decisively, smiling brightly at the dwarf as he stood. "I shall need to hear all about your plans on taking on a dragon. But I've decided to lend you my aid. Mister Thorin, it shall please me greatly to accompany you on your quest."

It took a moment for Thorin to catch up with the conversation and then he wondered if he'd made the right decision. After all, Bilbo Baggins was a rather strange fellow.

In fact, at that very moment the hobbit had begun twirling about with much poise and grace, as though he had not a care in the world. The ram appeared pleased with the hobbit's dancing and began bouncing around him, floating up into the air and back down again.

No doubt it was a very strange sight to anyone who would be looking.

"Have you ever flown before?" asked Bilbo suddenly, stopping mid-twirl to gaze at Thorin. He laughed giddily and finished one last twirl before bounding towards the stunned dwarf. "Do you want to go flying? It's a nice night and the wind feels nice."

"Flying? _Flying?_ " Thorin echoed incredulously. "I am a Dwarf. Dwarves do not fly."

"Neither do Hobbits, but that's never stopped me!" Bilbo announced, spreading his arms out wide.

Under the light of the moon, time stopped.

Thorin blinked and suddenly he was looking at a bird instead of a Hobbit. A small white bird surrounded by endless light. He blinked again and the image vanished; there was only a Hobbit standing there, flapping his arms up and down as though he were indeed a bird.

"You tell me how that goes," said Thorin falteringly, making to turn around and head back inside. He let out a startled shout when the hood of his coat was suddenly grasped between very large teeth.

Barnaby, the size of a house, easily picked him up and tossed him into the air. It happened too fast for Thorin to feel anything other than shock, he landed on his back on something white and incredibly soft.

 _Wool_ , he thought stupefied, staring at the sky above him and not daring to move.

"Goodness!" cried Bilbo, appearing before the dwarf's gaze. "Mister Thorin! Mister Thorin! Are you all right? Are you injured? I'm so sorry! I didn't think Barnaby was just going to toss you up in the air like a pancake!"

Thorin did not answer as the hobbit fretted over him, thinking to himself that Bilbo was very nice for worrying about him so.

As he gazed up at the stars, he eventually noticed that they were moving. The stars were moving into his vision and out of it.

He allowed Bilbo to help him sit up, peculiarly pleased when the hobbit did not release his arm, and took a look around. They were up in the sky and he could see the Shire down below.

Side by side they sat atop Barnaby, who happily galloped through the air, only flying low over the river to dip his hooves in the water. The gentle breeze blew through their hair and Thorin was enchanted by the way Bilbo laughed so brightly, so open with his happiness. The hobbit kept his left arm wrapped around Thorin's own, spreading out his other arm and tilting his head back to enjoy the wind.

Once the air began to grow colder they both lay back down and cuddled in the ram's fleece, gazing up at the star clusters that looked to form strange images.

As Barnaby began the flight back to Bag End, Thorin noticed that Bilbo was shivering. He removed his coat and draped it over the hobbit's back, to Bilbo's appreciative shock. A snort of laughter left Thorin as he saw that the coat all but swallowed the hobbit, with the sleeves requiring several pulls back before Bilbo could find his hands again.

They returned to Bag End, their hair askew and windswept, and with smiling faces red. Gandalf and Thorin's Company were in the backyard, awaiting their return.

"Perhaps next time you decide to go on a magical ram ride, you could warn the rest of us?" Gandalf implored once Bilbo and Thorin rejoined them.

"Why? Did you want to come along, too?" Bilbo asked guilelessly, appearing like a child engulfed by Thorin's coat as he was.

The Wizard shook his head, laughing softly and smiling fondly at the hobbit. "Maybe another time. I was merely asking for the sake of Thorin's companions, who thought you'd absconded with their king."

"I want to ride on the ram with Bilbo!" Kili whispered heatedly, only to be sharply elbowed by his brother. Though Thorin heard his nephew's words and frowned at him, Bilbo did not.

"I'll be sure to ask for permission before making off with Mister Thorin next time, then," Bilbo replied, amused.

"Next time?" echoed Gandalf.

"Bilbo has agreed to join us on our journey, with the understanding that the contract will be rewritten by Gandalf," explained Thorin.

Balin was equally amused as the hobbit, "As long as you ask next time, laddie. A note of warning would have been nice, so we need not worry so much."

"Will do," Bilbo said. He turned to look at Barnaby when the ram bleated, facing them once again after a moment. "Barnaby says he's sorry, as well."

The dwarves did not doubt for a second that what Bilbo said was true. Looking to the ram, they could see that he was nodding along with Bilbo's words and returned their gazes with one of his own, eyes filled with a intelligence and understanding. The ram, aside from all his magical abilities, was turning to be as surprising as his owner.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you'll be joining us, Bilbo," Gandalf said. "Now come back inside, it's much too cold for you to be out in a thin shirt!"

There was an exchange of amused glances as Gandalf corralled Bilbo back into his home, Barnaby following close behind, small-sized once again. The hobbit veered off to the entrance, taking off Thorin's coat and hanging it on one of the hooks by the door. From there, though the dwarves tried to draw his attention, Bilbo wandered into the dining room and the kitchen to check if everything was clean, often times the broom got lazy and simply stopped working when Bilbo wasn't looking.

When he finally joined the Company back in the parlor, he found himself the subject of curious observation. He did not understand why they were staring at him until he noticed the contraption his uncle held in his hands.

"You want to sing?" asked Bilbo, for his Uncle Gandalf was holding his Mother's magical music box; it had the power to play the tune of whatever song someone asked of it.

"Oh, dear me, _I'm_ not going to sing," Gandalf laughed. "I was showing your Mother's music box to your guests, as they said they wanted to sing a song for you. A song of their home." Indeed, the music box was already playing a tune that Bilbo recognized. "But the music box will only play _this_ tune when I ask it for 'Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold'. Very perplexing."

"I don't know what song you speak of, but the tune that's playing is 'Song of the Lonely Mountain'," Bilbo explained.

"'Song of the _Lonely Mountain_ ', you say?" Thorin asked, surprised. "Would you sing it for us?"

Bilbo was pleased to do so. He had been taught by his Father that singing was always a good way to pass the time and also to impress people. Besides, he might not have inherited his Father's flair for dramatics nor his baritone, but he'd often been told he had a wonderful voice.

His Mother's music began playing the same tune once again and it was without embarrassment nor hesitation that he began to sing. " _Far over the Misty Mountains rise . . ._ " He was overjoyed when upon finishing his audience began applauding with great zeal.

"How did you come to learn that song?" Thorin asked.

"I wrote it when I was young. I used to write many songs and poems," said Bilbo with a shrug.

"I think your guests wish to know how you came to upon the inspiration for the song, Bilbo," Gandalf added helpfully. The dwarves would have spent the rest of the night wondering or trying to drop subtle hints about what they wanted to know, never understanding that with Bilbo one had to be direct. But they would learn that, in time.

Otherwise there would be a big misunderstanding and Bilbo would be emotional, if there was one thing Gandalf did not like it was dealing with an emotional Bilbo. An emotional Bilbo was like a volcano ready to erupt. With explosions and fire included.

"Well, one of my uncles used to tell me a story about the Kingdom of Erebor," Bilbo explained. "A long time ago, there was the city of Dale, its markets known far and wide for their splendor. This city lay before the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth; Erebor. Stronghold of Thrór, King under the Mountain. A great kingdom built within the Lonely Mountain, with large caverns where gems were hewed from rock and great seams of gold ran like rivers through stone."

As Bilbo continued weaving his story, he was completely unaware of the wide-eyed stares he was receiving. The young dwarves, who had never heard the story told in such a manner, were captivated by Bilbo's voice.

"Ever the Dwarves of Erebor delved deeper into the mountain, down into the dark, and that is where they found it. The Heart of the Mountain; the Arkenstone. A great and beautiful stone that shone with its own pale light and when the light fell upon it, it shone all the brighter. The Arkenstone became the heirloom of the Kings of Durin's Folk. Yet the time of peace and prosperity would not last for the Dwarves of Erebor. Thrór's love of gold had grown too fierce and infected his mind. The more and more treasure he accumulated, the more he wanted. Unaware that his greed had attracted the attention of Smaug . . . the fire-breathing drake from the North . . ."

Bilbo abruptly stopped reciting the story as realization sunk. "Smaug! Oh, the dragon!"

Thorin arched an eyebrow. "You know the story?"

"I know _a_ story, I don't know if it's correct. In fact, I didn't even know it was _true_."

"Did Thorin already explain the quest to you?" asked Gandalf.

"He explained about the dragon. If that's the whole quest, then yes."

"Are you going to finish telling the story?" Kili intervened.

"But don't you know it already?"

"But it sounds more interesting when _you_ tell it."

Bilbo gazed at Kili unblinkingly, then it was like the sun rose as the hobbit smiled widely and almost _sparkled_. " _Really_?" He threw Thorin a wide-eyed questioning look and the dwarf was forced to nod at him reassuringly, as he did not want the hobbit to think he disagreed with his nephew's statement.

"Actually, I'm interested in hearing this version of yours, as well," said Balin. There were several agreeing murmurs around the room. "I have never heard anyone describe Erebor with such . . . wonder. It is most refreshing."

Bilbo thought for a moment about where he had finished off with the story before continuing. "Erebor was lost that day. For dragons covet gold and will guard their plunder for as long as they live. As they ran from what was once their home, the Dwarves of Erebor saw upon the hills the Elvenking, Thranduil, and his army. But Thranduil would not risk the lives of his people against the might of a dragon. No help came from the Elves that day nor any day since. The young dwarf prince, once heir to a great kingdom, wandered the wilderness with his people. Finding work in the villages of Men. Always he remembered the dragon fire in the sky and his city turned to ash, and he never forgave that he never forgot."

He looked around as he finished the tale, taking a moment to gauge everyone's expressions. Balin was gazing at Thorin worriedly and Bilbo turned to do the same. The young dwarf prince – _not so young anymore_ , Bilbo thought – had turned his face away, glaring at the flickering flames of the fireplace. Bilbo quietly walked around the outside of the circle of chairs, listening to snippets of whispered conversations as he passed, until he was standing behind Thorin's chair.

He knelt at the back of the chair and peered curiously around it, coming face to face with Thorin, who lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"Did I upset you?" Bilbo whispered.

"I'm quite all right, Bilbo," Thorin whispered back, amused.

"That dragon must have attacked Erebor a _long_ time ago. You don't look so young anymore, Mister Dwarf Prince. You must be positively _ancient_ by now!"

Thorin sputtered, choked on a laugh, and almost fell off his chair. Gandalf, sitting beside them and smoking his pipe, shook his head fondly at Bilbo's antics. The others were surprised to see Thorin laughing all of a sudden and looked to each other in confusion.

"Well, its true! Although . . . you don't look as old as Mister Balin," Bilbo exclaimed. "No offense meant, Mister Balin!"

"That's quite all right, lad. Although it might shock you to know that Thorin is older than me," Balin revealed.

The hobbit regarded Thorin speculatively. "Well, you look good for your old age."

As his Company and Gandalf laughed themselves silly, Thorin could only shake his head. Bilbo was extraordinarily pleased by the grin he could see the dwarf trying to retain.

"All right, you menace," Gandalf said, once he'd managed to subdue his laughter. "Will you be providing rooms for your guests? Or are they to sleep out here in front of the fireplace?"

"Of course I'm providing rooms! What sort of host do you take me for?"

Bilbo grumbled to himself. There were several startled shouts and cries as he bent over and reached into the fireplace, grasping at one of the burning coals and withdrawing his hand uninjured. He was taken aback when he found himself surrounded by dwarves on all sides, with insistent hands pulling at his arm to check for burns. He soon found himself seated back in his armchair, sans coal and with Óin checking his hands with a critical eye.

He was surprised to notice the nice pink color of the dwarf and beamed brightly, startling the dwarves that still surrounded him. "I see now that you're a nice pink color, Mister Óin!"

The healer paused in his ministrations to stare at him in befuddlement, reaching up to fix the horn he had in one ear. "Pardon me? Did you say I was _pink_?"

"It's a very nice color!" Bilbo said earnestly, eyes wide and bright. "It means you are a very loving and giving individual and you are very generous with your time. You are highly sensitive to the needs of others, because of that you are a natural healer. Which makes sense, seeing how you are tending to me though I have no injuries to speak of." He cocked his head sideways and tried to analyze the healer's horn. "Why do you have a horn in your ear?"

". . . I have a horn in my ear because I am hard of hearing, laddie," said Óin.

"Does it help?"

Óin hemmed and hawed and no one thought to help him, they did not know how to respond to such a question either but observed the proceedings with much interest.

"Forget about that!" Kili interposed yet again. "Why would you reach into the fire like so? How is it you're not injured?"

It was Gandalf who answered, "Just one of the many reasons our Bilbo is special and quite suited to task he has agreed to."

Thorin dropped to his knees by the hobbit's chair, stunned. "You will not be burned by the dragon's fire."

"Not burned, maybe eaten," Bilbo said unhelpfully. As he looked over his shoulder to the ground, wondering where his coal had gone, he decided that it would be too much trouble to get up and look for it. Besides, none of the dwarves appeared ready to let him up just yet. So he reached out a hand towards the fireplace and summoned another piece of coal towards him and once it was safely in his hand he turned to regard his guests. "If you're wanting those rooms to rest in, you'd best be letting me up so I can make them."

"Make them?" was echoed dubiously around the group but they allowed the hobbit his space.

Bilbo hummed happily as he took down the frames that hung on the wall opposite the fireplace, carefully placing them off to the side where they wouldn't disturb anyone. He then stooped down and with the coal began to draw a line. Up it went and he stood on tiptoes to make sure it was high enough for the dwarves. He dragged it over his head in an arch and then down the other side.

Once finished, he stood back to admire his handiwork. Scratching his head when he realized the image was a little crooked but with a shrug he decided that it would have to do. With a snap of his fingers, there was suddenly a door where only a wall had been.

Bilbo curiously pulled it open and peered into what was a hallway. "There. That should do it." There were twelve doors evenly spaced apart, six on one side and six on the other, with a single ornate door at the end of the hall. As Bilbo peaked into some of the rooms, the dwarves followed closely behind, gazing around with awe. "I hope this will do."

"Do? This is more than we were expecting!" said Bofur, clapping him on the shoulder and almost sending him tumbling forward. "So we each get a room to ourselves? I imagine the one at the end of the hallway is for our dear king?"

"If he wants it," said Bilbo. He stood at the entrance and twiddled his thumbs as the dwarves decided which rooms they wanted. He knew, from previous times he'd used the spell, that no two rooms ever came out the same. He'd been surprised, however, by the door at the end of the hallway. He had never created such an ornate door before and it did not cross his mind that mayhap he'd been too focused on Thorin while drawing the main door.

Having decided on one of the rooms already, Kili leaned against the open doorway and gazed at Bilbo, smiling widely. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, wanting to turn around and leave but not wishing to be rude.

"Can I help you?" he asked instead.

Kili shook his head and smiled impossibly wider, ignoring his brother who leaned against his own doorway watching the two of them and rolling his eyes.

"That thing you just did, can you do that out on the road, too?"

"I've never tried to before. It's much easier to just use my tent."

The dwarf furrowed his eyebrows and Bilbo wondered what he'd said that was so confusing.

"You mean like ones used in army encampments? Aren't those very large?" Kili held his arms out wide, to indicate that those tents were _very_ large. "How do you carry it?"

"No, I mean my camping tent, it's not so big from the outside," Bilbo said with a laugh.

"I don't know what a camping tent is. Is it very different from the army tents?"

Bilbo rubbed at the back of his neck, he was becoming very confused by the conversation. "You're planning a long journey but you don't have tents? Where do you sleep at night?"

"Bedrolls," Fili replied, moving closer to them to join the conversation.

"But . . . what about when it rains? Where do you sleep then?"

Fili and Kili exchanged glances, simultaneously replying, "Bedrolls."

Several of the dwarves had stopped to listen to the conversation and they were all startled when Bilbo suddenly turned around and ran through the door back to the parlor, shouting, "Uncle Gandalf! They don't have tents!"

"I am aware of that, Bilbo. The only tents available are large ones that are too much work to carry around, so they are only used for encampments," Gandalf explained, still sitting in his chair by the fireplace. He had been dozing contentedly, smoking his pipe, when Bilbo had come barging back in.

"But they're planning to sleep _outside_ . . . in the _rain_!" Bilbo argued.

"I don't know what you expect me to do about it, Bilbo."

"But that's not safe! What if we get dragged off by ogres?"

Gandalf patiently replied, "There are no ogres in Middle-earth."

Bilbo sighed, exasperated. "I know that. I was just making a _point_."

"As I said, I don't know what you expect me to do about it."

Neither of them noticed that Thorin had wandered into the parlor after Bilbo and was shifting his gaze back and forth between them, bewildered.

"I have a tent, but it's already enchanted and it's only big enough for one person," said Bilbo, continuing to gaze at the Wizard with large eyes. It took a moment but Bilbo knew the older man finally realized he was asking for something when his expression shifted to one of long-suffering.

"Menace, what do you want? Ask it quick before I change my mind."

Bilbo clapped his hands and bounced on his feet, triumphant. "The magic to create a tent that is bigger on the inside requires at least two wizards. I'll just need to get the materials to make the tent first but I can get those tomorrow."

Gandalf sighed and looked towards Thorin, drawing Bilbo's attention to the dwarf as well. "I suppose it's Thorin's decision. If he wishes to stay for another full day . . . we can work on your tent."

Bilbo turned wide, pleading eyes on the dwarf, who staggered back and stammered incoherently. Thorin coughed into a fist, cleared his throat, and managed to nod. He was unprepared to have his arms full of grateful hobbit, who threw his arms around him as far as he could and tried to squeeze him.

They both jumped apart when Barnaby, who had been happily sleeping in Bilbo's shirt pocket, suddenly let out a loud bleat as he was squished in between two bodies.

"Barnaby, I'm so sorry!" Bilbo fretted, taking the dazed ram from his pocket. He ran down the hallway with the ram in his palm, leaving a flustered Thorin shiftily avoiding Gandalf's knowing gaze.

The dwarf turned and went back to his room without further ado. Gandalf resumed smoking his pipe, shaking his head in fond amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> # Bilbo is wild, carefree, and to the point. He was raised by Goblins, Jareth, and Belladonna (who is a Took) and we're glad he didn't come out all crazy. C: Well, he was raised by Bungo, too. But Bungo was already corrupted by the Took-side. :|
> 
> # Before I forget again, the idea of Bilbo's "colors" comes mostly from the colors of hoods the dwarves wear in the book. I had to change a few (Óin, Gandalf, Dori, Nori, I think) but I was surprised by how well their hood colors matched their characters. C:
> 
> # I plan to do some more Jareth/Belladonna CHAPTERS. But not for a few chapters yet until Bilbo and Company reach Rivendell.


	10. The Prince Who Wanted a Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all welcome to follow my new [fic blog](http://apobun.tumblr.com/). Sorry for the long wait, enjoy my brand of crazy Bilbo and his . . . craziness.

When Thorin woke the following morning it was to the delicious smell of breakfast assaulting his nose; he felt refreshed after getting what was likely the best sleep he'd had in a long time. He threw the covers back and stretched, then was halfway to the door before he realized he wasn't properly dressed and quickly moved to make himself presentable.

He was met by a drowsy yet well-rested Dwalin out in the hallway and together they made their way to the parlor. They were greeted by a far-too-awake wizard, who sat in the large armchair by the roaring fireplace, smoking his pipe without a care in the world.

"He's in the kitchen," said Gandalf, before either of them could even open their mouths to ask anything. "Likely driving poor Master Bombur to distraction. If you wish to have breakfast this morning I suggest getting Bilbo out of his hair."

Bilbo was hovering behind Bombur, trying to peak around the dwarf to see what he was cooking, going so far as to stand on tiptoes to get a good look. Bombur was far too kind and did nothing to discourage the hobbit. His brother, Bofur, sat at the dining room table with his face hidden in his hands, shoulders shaking, obviously laughing at his brother's plight.

It was to Bombur's immense relief that Bilbo caught sight of Thorin and Dwalin and swiftly ran to their side. The hobbit threw his arms around a startled Thorin first, chirping a cheery "good morning, Mister Thorin!"

Dwalin snorted with amusement at Thorin's predicament, only to find himself with an armful of hobbit next and his own cheery "good morning, Mister Dwalin!"

"Good morning?" Dwalin managed.

"Did you sleep well?" Bilbo implored, eyes wide and shining brightly.

Bofur hid his face in his arms again to muffle his laughter as Dwalin and Thorin nodded dumbfoundedly, their faces red. He and Bombur had been subject to two very similar hugs that morning as well. Although they were both more tactile than Thorin and Dwalin and thus had returned the hugs and greetings with their own.

"I slept very well, thank you," Thorin replied, a small smile playing about his lips.

"I did as well," Dwalin nodded.

Bilbo beamed. "I'm glad." He saw Balin entering the hall and ran to give him a hug and a "good morning, Mister Balin!" before disappearing into the parlor. Dwalin, Thorin, and Bofur laughed at the expression on the dwarf's face.

The hobbit returned half a minute later with Gandalf at his heels and carrying a long piece of parchment. "Uncle Gandalf finished the contract so you can look it over, Mister Balin!"

"Just Balin is fine, laddie," Balin said and took the offered contract. He was surprised to notice the beautiful flowing letters.

"I copied it down as nicely as I could!" Bilbo explained earnestly, noticing where the dwarf's attention lay. "Does it look all right?"

Balin smiled at him reassuringly. "It looks very well done. I'll just look this over, then?"

Thorin nodded. "I trust you to look after the well being of the Company."

"I have to run some errands and go to the market," Bilbo added.

"But breakfast is almost ready," Bofur argued.

"That's all right. I don't eat meat," Bilbo laughed, chagrined. "I'll just wait for second breakfast."

"Don't eat meat?" Dwalin echoed uncomprehendingly.

"Second breakfast?" Thorin echoed, bewildered. He rapidly shook off his bafflement as the hobbit gathered an empty knapsack that he drew over his shoulder. "Would you mind some company?"

Bilbo smiled radiantly. "I wouldn't mind some company at all!"

"Then I shall tag along as well," Dwalin decided.

The hobbit radiated his happiness and all but dragged the two dwarves out the door. The rest of the Company waited until they were sure the three of them were out of hearing range before beginning to laugh uproariously.

"I think Dwalin and Thorin have met their match," Balin chuckled, thinking about the ease with which the little hobbit had corralled the two grown dwarves out the door.

"Ah, yes, Bilbo is twice as stubborn as any dwarf I have ever met," Gandalf said.

On the way to the market Thorin and Dwalin were surprised by the number of hobbits who stopped and greeted Bilbo; bowing to him as he passed, shaking his hand, or simply shouting a "good morning, Bilbo!" It was evident that the hobbit was well liked and respected by the Hobbits of the Shire.

It wasn't surprising that the hobbit took the time to greet everyone back, always cheerful and always smiling. By the time they reached the market Bilbo had a trail of little hobbit children following at his heels, each one vying for a minute of his attention, which he paid to them with an ease that was to be commended. The children ran off once they'd all gotten their share of Bilbo's time.

"Bore da, Tywysog ifanc!" a short, stout hobbit greeted cheerfully from behind his booth.

"Bore da!" Bilbo called back.

"Dw i ddim wedi dy weld ti ers sbel," the vendor continued. "Sut ydych chi?"

"Da iawn, diolch."

Thorin and Dwalin stood nearby, bewildered by the strange language being spoken between the hobbits. It sounded surprisingly garbled and confusing when spoken by the vendor but oddly soft and melodic from Bilbo, who strung the words together like he was vocalizing a song.

The stout hobbit laughed finally, belly jingling, and passed Bilbo three apples from his wares. Bilbo shared the apples with Thorin and Dwalin, who thanked both hobbits politely. Then they were moving on to the next stall and Bilbo chatted amiably with the woman sitting there. The same continued until they had visited every stall at the market and Bilbo had spoken to all the vendors and merchants, as well as the hobbits who were shopping and trading.

It was a strangely familiar sight to Thorin, who compared it to watching his grandfather or even his father walk among their people. Before the gold sickness had befallen Thror and the dragon had taken the mountain.

"You appear to have quite the extended family," said Dwalin, having lost count already of how many hobbits had greeted Bilbo as "Cousin Bilbo".

"Those were Bagginses, I'm not related to them but they still consider me family," Bilbo explained, waving goodbye to Drogo Baggins—who had stopped to complain about his love life, or lack thereof, before running off after Primula Brandybuck—yet another hobbit who had called Bilbo "cousin". It was all terribly confusing for the dwarves.

"I thought your name was Bilbo _Baggins_?" Thorin demanded.

"Uncle Gandalf calls me that because he knows I don't like it," Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Most hobbits inherit their father's surnames but Father doesn't have a surname. I suppose if you had to call me by two names it would be Bilbo Took, after my mother, Belladonna Took."

Which explained why some of the elderly hobbits called Bilbo a "Took", though often it was said in a complaining tone.

"The wizard told you to stop showing your 'Took side' last night, what did he mean?" Dwalin wondered.

"He always tells me that and I'm never sure what he means. Uncle Gandalf was very good friends with my grandfather, Gerontius Took, and has always been rather fond of the Took family. But he is always complaining about us," Bilbo rubbed the top of his head, brows furrowed, "and bonking me on the head. He is very contradictory. In any case, Tooks are known in the Shire for going on adventures. Hardly proper for a hobbit, is it?"

"What about that strange language you were speaking? Is it the language of Hobbits?" Thorin asked.

"Hobbitish," Bilbo nodded agreeably. "Not very many hobbits still speak it for it is very hard to pronounce."

They heard a familiar bleating sound from down the road, they saw Bilbo's ram trotting towards them.

"Finally awake, are you?" Bilbo demanded, fists on his hips as he scolded Barnaby. "I tried to wake you _three times_!" The ram looked shamefaced, ears flopping down and head bowed. "I am done with the greetings this morning and I have gotten everything Uncle Gandalf and I need." He gestured at the bags he and the dwarves were carrying. "We are heading back now." The ram bleated questioningly, bouncing up and floating down. "Oh, very well, you may carry my bag."

The ram was pleased as Bilbo helped him place the bag handle in his mouth and floated obediently behind them as they headed back to Bag End. Several hobbit children greeted the ram and pet him, brightening his mood.

"You do this every morning, then? Greet everyone?" Dwalin asked. "Is it your duty or . . .?"

"It's not a duty but the elders like to see me invested in the well-beings of the Shire Hobbits," Bilbo smiled crookedly and shrugged. "They hold Father in high esteem, so certain things are expected of me."

They had reached Bag End by then and Bilbo opened the door with a flick of his wrist, allowing Barnaby to enter the hole first. The sounds of raised voices reached their ears as they entered and Balin stood near the entrance, clearly waiting for them. Without bothering to remove their coats, the dwarves quickly followed after him as he led the way to the parlor.

Bilbo shook his head, exasperated, and took his bag from Barnaby. With the dwarves blocking the way to the parlor he could not get through to the kitchen to drop off what food he'd been given. Instead he went around the long way, peaking into the parlor from the East Hall and wondering why the dwarves were shouting at each other and . . . his cousin?

He was placing his bag of food in the pantry when he was ambushed by Fili and Kili, both shouting, trying to be heard over the other as they demanded answers. Bilbo stared at them, petrified by shock, and tried to make sense of what he was being asked. He nodded then shook his head, trying to push past them but they crowded him into the pantry and against one of the beams. He took several deep breaths when he felt the tingling beneath his skin, shaking the electricity from the tips of his fingers.

The last thing he wanted to do was harm one of the dwarves—they'd only just met!

The smial grew silent as the ground began to shake. Silent but for Barnaby's alarmed bleating. The ram was attempting to push past Fili and Kili, who were staring at a shaking and grimacing Bilbo, to get to the hobbit.

"Out," Gandalf intoned from behind them. The brothers started, turning around to stare at the wizard with wide eyes but Gandalf had eyes only for Bilbo. " _Out_!"

Fili and Kili promptly scurried away or at least tried but were forced to lean against the walls as the ground continued to shake. It was not until Gandalf managed to calm Bilbo that the hobbit's home stopped shaking.

Bilbo wobbled out of the pantry with Gandalf's help, waving his hand about in the air. Whatever form of magic he had spread throughout the house and it was like a breath of fresh air, ruffling hair as it moved, righting and fixing everything that had fallen.

The hobbit was escorted into the parlor and made to sit in his armchair. He smiled wryly when he was given a glass of water by his cousin, Fortinbras Took.

"Cousin," Bilbo greeted cordially, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine morning?"

"It's Thursday," said Fortinbras.

"Is it? I must have lost track of time," Bilbo laughed sheepishly.

"Good morning, Uncle Bilbo," said Ferumbras, the son of Fortinbras, who often accompanied his father on errands. "May I take Barnaby on a walk please?"

Barnaby brightened considerably but still bleated worriedly at Bilbo and the hobbit reached down to pat him on the head.

"Go on, I'll be fine," Bilbo reassured. He gulped down the glass of water as Barnaby and Ferumbras left the hole, the sound of the door closing echoing loudly in the silence. "Will someone explain why I almost blew up my home?"

Fili and Kili looked horrified, taking a simultaneous step back.

"Is it true?" Bofur demanded, leaning right into the hobbit's space in order to see his face. Bilbo was reasonably surprised by this, nodding and shaking his head in confusion.

"Is what true?" he finally managed to ask.

" _He_ said you were a _prince_!" Kili cried, pointing accusingly at Fortinbras, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"They were flaunting their own statuses as _princes_ ; outrageous," Fortinbras muttered. "I merely mentioned that you were a prince as well and yet you have more decorum than them two together." He looked apologetic. "Which isn't saying much, I know, and that was the _point_."

Bilbo pouted, crossing his legs under him on the chair. "Well, you're not much better and you're the _Thain_."

"Thain is not the same as _prince_ ," Fortinbras argued and indicated at Bilbo's sitting position. "You are sitting like a child. Sit up straight, feet on the floor, hands at your side or on your lap."

Bilbo did as he was told, brows furrowed, and looking mighty uncomfortable as he tried to appear regal. Though his eyes shone miserably he obviously knew how to hold and project himself; the sudden change from the Bilbo they had begun to acquaint themselves with to the Bilbo sitting before them was astonishing. The hobbit tipped his chin down and narrowed his eyes, mouth flat and gaze intent as he regarded them.

The breath left Thorin in an instant as the room around them vanished. Instead of an armchair Bilbo sat on a throne made of skulls and bones, wearing a dark red flowing gown that covered him from neck to toes. There were gems interwoven in his hair, rubies and garnets, and a silver crown with a crescent moon that rested on the center of his forehead. The image disappeared as Bilbo blinked and sprawled back against the chair.

"Being a prince is too much work," he complained.

While Thorin did not know what to say, the rest of his Company were not so befuddled as he and began shouting questions at the hobbit once again. Demanding to know how he was a prince of all things and was his father a king? Was his father King of the Shire? Why had he not told him he was a prince?

"It's not important," Bilbo said honestly.

There was a deafening silence as the dwarves gaped at him while Gandalf and Fortinbras whispered to each other.

"How can you say it's not important?" Thorin finally demanded, breaking out of his shocked stupor. "Is being of royal descent something not honored by your people?"

"It is, actually," Fortinbras quipped. "But Bilbo is the first prince we've ever had. His father is not our king but he saved the Shire during the Fell Winter and we have honored him ever since."

"Then his father is not truly a king?" Fili wondered.

"His father _is_ a king," Gandalf said. "Of a faraway kingdom. You would not have heard of it."

"Your father is not a Hobbit then?" Balin asked, the most perceptive of the group as always.

"Tent!" Bilbo shouted suddenly, startling half the room. "I need to start the tent!"

"Bilbo, you haven't eaten breakfast," Fortinbras intervened. "Knowing you, you will probably forget to eat until midnight!"

"I'll eat later, I won't forget," Bilbo waved him away. He sputtered when he was grabbed by the bicep and dragged to the kitchen by Thorin. "What are you _doing_?"

"My Company has graciously waited for us to return so that we may all eat breakfast _together_ ," Thorin said, glaring at him. "You may explain everything whilst we eat."

"Explain what?" Bilbo demanded, bewildered. "Dwarves are so confusing! So my father is a king and _technically_ that makes me a prince, but it's not a crucial piece of information! It is not as though somehow being a prince makes me incapable of helping you!" He looked around at them, unsure and with eyes shining wetly. "Does it? Do you hate princes? Is that why you don't want me to go with you? _Why do you hate me_?"

Thorin spluttered uselessly while Gandalf shook his head, exasperated, and Fortinbras hid his face in his hands, despairing for his cousin.

"I don't hate you," Thorin assured the distressed hobbit. " _No one_ here hates you and we _do_ want you to come with us." He glared at his Company, as though accusing them of being the ones to hurt the hobbit's feelings. "Isn't that right?"

The dwarves agreed wholeheartedly, pleased when Bilbo smiled at them tremulously.

"Will you be staying Fortinbras?" Gandalf asked.

The elder hobbit shook his head. "No, I merely wanted to know why Bilbo did not stop by Tuckborough last night as he was supposed to." He arched an eyebrow at his cousin, amused. "Paladin was quite heartbroken when you did not show up."

"I had guests!" Bilbo cried defensively and fretted with his hands. "Is he terribly mad at me?"

"I'm sure he'll come around if you just explain that you had guests," Fortinbras reassured. "You _will_ stop by Tuckborough before you go?"

"Of course!" Bilbo accompanied his cousin to the door with Thorin following at his heels. Gandalf and the dwarves readied the dining room table for breakfast in the meantime.

Thorin lounged against the open doorway as Bilbo spoke to Fortinbras' son Ferumbras, who had gathered a group of hobbit children to play with Barnaby. The ram was sad to see the children go until Bilbo mentioned they would be going to "Tuckborough" later that night.

"Where is this Tuckborough?" asked Thorin once they were back inside. "Why must you go there?"

"Oh, Tuckborough is south of Hobbiton, that is where the Took family resides," Bilbo explained. "They worry about me living on my own, so I have to check in every Wednesday to tell them how I'm doing and show them that I'm 'still alive'."

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then regarded the hobbit seriously. "How _old_ are you?"

"I'm fifty," Bilbo glared at him, clearly guessing what he was thinking. "A Hobbit is considered an adult at the age of thirty-three. I'm well past that, as you can see! I am _not_ a _child_!"

"What's this now?" Gandalf wondered, concerned, peaking into the entrance hall from the parlor. "There is much to do today and yet you linger here arguing about unimportant matters."

"We are not arguing," rumbled Thorin, annoyed. He waited until Bilbo had calmed considerably before continuing, "I will accompany you to Tuckborough then."

The hobbit floundered momentarily, trying to hold on to his anger but his confusion won out in the end. "Eh?"

"Tonight, I will accompany you to your family's home," elaborated Thorin.

"A grand idea!" Gandalf agreed before Bilbo could argue. "I will also go along. I believe it would ease your cousins' worries if both Thorin and I explained the situation."

Bilbo scratched the back of his head, glancing at them from one to the other. He sighed and crossed his arms, glaring at Thorin petulantly. "Very well. But you can't tell them about the dragon, that will only make them worry more, not less. They'd never let me out of the house if they found out."

"I understand," Thorin nodded, vowing to keep from mentioning anything that would sound remotely dangerous.

"That's settled then, let us eat!" Gandalf corralled Bilbo and Thorin to the dining room and into two seats next to each other.

Bilbo refused all offers of meat; sausages and bacon and ham. The dwarves thought it strange but allowed him his oddity and while they ate ravenously the hobbit took his time with his plate, brows furrowed as he picked at the food, pushing most of it around and pecking at it like a bird.

Gandalf nudged Thorin on the side gently when he noticed the dwarf gazing at the hobbit worriedly, leaning over to whisper, "It's a miracle he's even eating breakfast. He does not have much of an appetite in the mornings."

It took him a while and the dwarves had begun eating slower by the end so he would not feel awkward and try to rush but eventually Bilbo managed to finish his plate, chugging down his mug of goat milk last.

"Thank you for the meal!" the hobbit exclaimed once he was done, bowing over the table at them. He grinned widely at them, eyes shining mischievously. "Are you all ready then?"

"Ready?" was echoed by the confused dwarves.

"Of course," Bilbo blinked at them innocently. "I'm going to put you to work now."

It took him but a moment to set up his tent in the parlor, allowing the dwarves to venture cautiously inside it and listening to their shocked proclamations with a large smile on his face. The dwarves were suitably impressed; the tent had its very own kitchen! Not that Bilbo ever used it, he wasn't much for cooking after all.

The dwarves understood, at last, what it was the hobbit wished to do. His own tent was meant for one person, most definitely not a group of dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard.

The first thing the hobbit had them do was cut up tarp into rectangles and triangles and squares. Then it was onto whittling wood and making poles followed by them cutting rope and finally they sat in a circle to begin putting everything together. Bilbo was having a grand time telling the dwarves what to do and watching them poke fun at each other.

It was not surprising that Ori was able to perfectly align all of his pieces together while the others had problems since their pieces were often skewed. Bilbo did not want to point out to Thorin that his squares looked more like diamonds so he snapped his fingers and fixed the problem while the dwarf was not looking, blinking innocently at Dwalin when the warrior turned to cock an eyebrow at him.

After a while it was obvious that the dwarves were never going to get anywhere with their oddly slanting pieces so Bilbo immediately fixed the problem with another snap of his fingers. A few of the dwarves complained as to the reason why he did not simply use his magic to create the tent until he easily replied that he wanted to save his magic for when he actually needed it.

"The magic required to do what Bilbo wishes needs at _minimum_ two wizards and it will likely take much magic from us," Gandalf explained when Bilbo did not. "Do not be alarmed if both of us are exhausted afterwards."

"Are you sure you wish to do this? We do not need-" Thorin began, turning to Bilbo kneeling beside him.

"We've already started, we are not stopping," Bilbo interrupted firmly. He stuck his tongue out sideways as he helped Thorin and Dwalin align their pieces. The fact that he continuously helped Thorin and Dwalin and even Balin made Kili grumble enviously. Balin had wished to sit aside and let the others do the work but Bilbo was twice as stubborn as he and refused to let him—to the endless amusement of his brother.

"Question!" Fili called, raising his hand and waving it in the air. "What if we get attacked by a pack of Orcs? Won't it be very easy for them to kill us all off if we're in a tent?"

"Unlikely," replied Bilbo, still concentrating on what he was doing. "Since I will be casting a protection spell on the tent and the surrounding area. Once we're on the road, I mean."

"Protection spell?" echoed Ori curiously.

"Something you would know if you were a Loremaster," Bilbo said irritably. He cried out in shock when Gandalf's staff connected with the top of his head. "What was that _for_?"

Gandalf was surprised to find himself the recipient of thirteen angry glares—even _Ori_ was glaring at him! "Forgive me, Bilbo, force of habit."

The hobbit glared at him resentfully and moved to kneel on the other side of Thorin, where Gandalf could not reach him without hitting the dwarf first. Soon the tent was being raised in the center of the room and Bilbo was using a piece of white chalk to draw a circle around it.

The dwarves had thought they would be witness to a grand magic show but it turned out to be a few minutes of Bilbo and Gandalf holding on to the wizard's staff and chanting an Elvish sounding spell.

"Was that it?" Kili complained when it was over, disappointed.

Bilbo turned to glare at him and swayed dangerously, eyes rolling as he pitched forward into Thorin's arms. Gandalf had already sunk down into his armchair, too exhausted to move or talk. He made vague pointing gestures towards the tent and while Thorin took care of Bilbo the others peaked inside it.

There were various excited exclamations and murmurs as the dwarves explored the tent, which while quite small on the outside, was bigger than Bag End on the inside.

Thorin carried Bilbo down the many hallways of Bag End, trying to find the hobbit's bedroom. Barnaby bleated at him and happily led the way through the atrium into the study and to Bilbo's bedroom. He lay the hobbit upon the bed, gently running his fingers through the soft golden hair and tucking it behind a pointy ear.

He was startled by the sound of someone coughing, turning to find Balin standing in the open doorway. Thorin immediately stood, face burning at being caught in such a position. He followed his friend into the study.

"A _prince_ , Thorin," said Balin, before Thorin could begin explaining or denying things.

"What?" Thorin asked, confused.

"I am merely stating that should you ever wish to _acquaint_ yourself with Master Baggins there shouldn't be much of an uproar thanks to his status," Balin said. "Also, it might be a good way to form an alliance. Master Baggins' father sounds like a powerful person."

Thorin stared at him blankly for a minute before blurting, "His name is not Baggins." Which wasn't what he'd meant to say at all.

"It isn't?" Balin hummed thoughtfully. He held out the rewritten contract for Thorin to take. "There are several points included that I believe you must to look over and decide upon yourself."

"Several points? Like what?"

"Well," Balin looked pained. "Apparently Master Bilbo wishes to stop by Rivendell and refuses to join our Company if we do not."

"What? _Why_?"

Balin was interrupted before he could reply. "I need to pick up my _bow_ ," said Bilbo groggily from his bed. He had not moved from where Thorin had laid him on the bed and he still looked to be asleep. "I won't go further than Rivendell without it."

"We can get you another bow," Thorin snarled.

"I want _my_ bow," Bilbo argued. "It was given to me by Uncle Rowan and cannot be replaced."

Thorin grumbled and turned his back on the hobbit. "What other points?"

Balin swallowed a chuckle, already knowing Bilbo had won that battle. "All mentions of the Dwarven Tongue have been removed as per Master Baggins' request."

"All right," Thorin nodded agreeably. "Anything else?"

Balin coughed, looking pained once again. "Master Baggins wishes to know if he can trade his share of the treasure for the dragon."

There was a brief moment of silence and then Thorin roared, "WHAT?"

"Why not?" Bilbo whined, sitting up on his bed and rubbing at his eyes sleepily. "I promise to take good care of it!"

"IT IS NOT A PET!" Thorin continued to roar.

"It's not like I need the treasure anyway and you don't need the dragon! It's a good trade!" Bilbo shouted back.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Thorin turned his back on Bilbo again, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking several deep breaths. He nodded at Balin to continue, ignoring the small hands that pounded at his back.

"Are you listening to me?" Bilbo demanded. "I'm talking to you! Hey!"

Balin didn't know whether to be amused or horrified. "Master Gandalf requested that the introduction be removed."

"Introduction?" Thorin echoed, confused.

"'In role as Burglar for Thorin and Company, or in any other role they see fit, at their sole discretion from time to time'," Balin quoted. "Master Gandalf wishes to ascertain that Master Bilbo's magic and generosity are not abused by anyone in the Company."

"You can call me Bilbo, you know," Bilbo said, yawning widely and leaning against Thorin heavily. "Just Bilbo."

" _Bilbo_ has requested that he not be known as Burglar," Balin continued, smiling gently at the pleased look he received from the hobbit.

"My name is Bilbo," Bilbo nodded. "Not Burglar. Thank you."

Thorin closed his eyes briefly and then gestured for Balin to keep going. At least the hobbit appeared to have forgotten about the dragon business.

"This entire section has been removed; 'Burglar holds harmless and without blame in perpetuity the Company and its successors for notoriety, incarceration, or proceedings brought against, in regard to or as a result of the Adventure or any activities thereto. Also includes slander, libel, loss of face or of social standing in country of Burglar's origin'."

"Why?" Thorin wondered, so far as he could see that section did not endanger Bilbo in anyway.

"It's mostly for your protection," said Bilbo and laughed sheepishly. "You mentioned 'country of Burglar's origin' and if that contract where to ever reach my Father, you would not live long enough to reach your mountain." He smiled wryly at the disbelieving looks he was receiving. "Don't worry, I promise I won't hold the Company responsible if anything happens to me."

Thorin scowled. "I will not let anything happen to you."

Bilbo beamed at him.

"This section has been removed as well; 'It is assumed that Burglar will already possess and carry upon his person at all times an assortment of skeleton keys, wedges, pry-bars, masks, disguises, and other ‘Tools of the Trade’; and obtain same or remedy any deficiency by burglarious means and endeavors'."

"I don't need any of those things," Bilbo explained to Thorin's perplexed look. "Also, I will not be providing _pipe weed_ for the Company. I don't smoke so I have no need for such things."

"Aside from those everything else looks fine but you should read over it just in case," Balin finished.

Bilbo crossed his arms and gazed at them shrewdly. "Don't think I've forgotten about wanting that dragon, either." He cried out in shock when Gandalf's staff connected with the top of his head. "What was that for?"

Thorin couldn't fault the wizard for the action, he would have done the same thing had he a staff of his own.


End file.
